Learning To Live
by Purplerhino
Summary: Glitch has his whole brain back. DG and Cain are married. All is right with the world, or is it? A stranger brings them all a new problem to solve. Now Complete. Sequel to "Learning to Dance"Currently re-writing and tweaking. Redone to chapter 24.
1. Learning to Live: Scraps

Title: Learning to Live 1: Scraps

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was. Damnit. I could be rich and famous and have Wyatt Cain as my personal attendant if I did own them.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: _He felt… conflicted. Of two minds about everything. _

Glitch sat in his workshop staring at the glass ball with whirring gears and clicking switches held carefully in his palm. He wore a band about his head with a little arm that reached out above his right eye, holding a magnifying lens. His hair, a slightly messy tousle of black curls, mostly covered the fine line of a scar where once a zipper had been.

Right now, he was having a blank moment. He knew what he was doing. It was there, on the tip of his brain. This would read the weather, how heavy the air was, the temperature and humidity. It should warn of impending storms. If they put one of these in the six lighthouses around the kingdom they would have several hours notice of bad storms. At city and town centers it could also come in handy… if he could only remember what he had just done. Had he tightened the invariated spring working the barometer? Or had he changed the cog, to add additional fine-tuning on temperature readings? He sighed and set the globe down.

He felt… conflicted. Of two minds about everything. In the most literal sense. It had been a month since the best experts in alchemy - healing and magic - had reintroduced both halves of his brain to one another. They were connected and seemed to work most of the time. However, he had these moments. Times when he wanted to be proper and reflect the nobility of the crown, a strong voice tended to remind him to 'loosen up, blockhead.'

He never would go back to being the old Ambrose. He remembered being Ambrose, he vaguely remembered how he had thought, the propriety and genteel mannerisms. But he had become someone else. He couldn't stop being one to move backwards into the other. In many ways, Ambrose had been innocent. He'd been young, and unable to comprehend the things that had happened to him, for all his loyalty and bravery. Glitch knew too much, had seen and experienced things that Ambrose never would have, even if he did retain a bit of that 'wide eyed optimism'. And if his starched collars chafed at formal occasions, it was good. It meant he had grown. The person he had grown into was considerably more fun that Ambrose and his self constraints.

Yet, still the memory seemed to jump and he'd lose track of a conversation he really was interested in, or little things would show up that meant the old, grey matter roommates weren't always getting along.

The whole thing became irrelevant when the door to his lab burst open and two women entered. The dark skinned woman closed the door and stood just inside, blocking the entrance. The other ran right to him and flung her arms around him.

"Glitch you have to save me. Do you have anything that will make me invisible?" DG, High Princess of the O.Z. did not stand on propriety. Especially with her friends.

"Still working on that one, doll. Isn't your husband supposed to save you. Or Marion over there?" He wiggled his fingers at the woman blocking the door. here was a twitch to the corner of her full lips, though she maintained a serious mask while shaking her head. Evidently, the princess was on her own there.

"Wyatt's in a trade negotiation with my father and the emissary from Florin. Marion won't get involved unless the seamstress actually attacks me with scissors, although pins seem to be allowed." She narrowed her eyes at her bodyguard.

"Builds character, your Highness." Marion offered, her stoic mask never slipping. That kind of retort would be unheard of in any palace but this one. A bodyguard should never talk unless the safety of their charge was an issue. They did not befriend or entertain their ward. They were professional, invisible and disposable, to almost every other Noble and country except this one.

"I'm going to outlaw corsets. Cruel and unusual torture devices. They were invented by men who discovered a new fetish and then advertised it as fashion." Only DG would see her and Azkadellia's female guards need for freedom of movement and shown them the double slingshot contraption they had all taken to. It spread through the ranks of female guards and military. THEY were already wearing pants. But it was acceptable when it was uniform. Some women had even taken to the cupped bit of fabric outside of those in uniform.

"The O.Z. needs more feminism. Name one thing a man can do that a woman can't. " DG announced as she flopped into the plain wooden chair next to his.

"Father children?" Glitch grinned hugely.

"Pee standing up," Marion offered from her position by the door. One shoulder gave a little shrug, but she still managed to look foreboding.

"You are NOT supposed to help the peanut gallery," DG scrunched up her face at Marion. "Besides, give me a funnel and I could do that too."

"Father children?" Glitch's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline.

"Nooo... pee standing up. You got me on the fathering thing, but since men are too squeamish and unable to handle pain, we get double points for pregnancy and childbirth, rendering your comment invalid," DG smirked, quite happy with her argument.

"To get back on track here, you have to act like a princess sometimes. That means an occasional dress, and corset. After all you've already shocked so many with your trousers and new foundation wear. The people need a bit of glamour. A bit of glitz. There's a fundamental need to look at sparkly, pretty things. Be it a fancy frock or a..." Glitch looked past DG and hopped up, rushing to a shelf where a shaft of sunlight glinted off his sonic wrench, "Hey, I've been looking for that."

DG grinned then threw herself into another hug with Glitch. "You are a genius."

"You finally noticed?" His smile a bit unsure. What was she thinking?

"I'm going to design my own dress. Red carpet all the way. They want me in a dress then I'll give them glitz and glamour Otherside style. My terms," DG headed back towards the door and collected Marion to brave the seamstress once more. The hamster wheels obviously turning in her devious brain.

She better not credit him with whatever she was planning. He didn't think a dress made of red carpet would be more comfortable than a corset. It'd be awfully stiff. What were the chances he would get out of this without Cain trying to kill him?

* * *

She watched with wide eyes, as the men in hats and big coats pulled three people out of an apartment in one of the back alleys of Central City. The men in handcuffs were silent, but glaring. The men with the guns barked orders like angry dogs. She huddled against the wall. Loud voices, anger; they were bad. But the tin stars were supposed to mean good. _'Once,'_ she thought. _'Maybe.' _The thought slipped just out of her mental grasp, dissipating like mist.

She felt she should be here. She was supposed to be here. She didn't know how or why, but she sometimes knew things. When she remembered them. She 'wasn't right in the head'. That's what some people said when they sniffed and sneered. Others pointed to the zipper in her muddied and matted mass of hair and said she was bad. _Bad doggy, get away._ She wasn't missing something, she had replacement parts. Bits and pieces patched together on one side. That was one of the things she knew. Different people shoved in to see if it worked. Little girl lost wouldn't be missed.

She knew she had to be here. There was food in the house. After the men made of tin left, she could sneak in and get some. Her stomach growled and she placed a hand over it. _Quiet tummy. Bad dogs get kicked, chased away with stones. Or hands grabbed and pinched and hurt. _

She curled up behind some bins and waited. Eventually, she went to sleep.

It was very, very dark when she woke up. She didn't know where she was or why she was there. An apartment. She had to be at an apartment. Something important was waiting there. Something big. Her future was in there. Her stomach rumbled. Food. There was food in there, too. Or where they both the same?

Six floors up she climbed. She was a bit weak and shakey from her tummy. Had she eaten today? Yesterday? She didn't know.

The door had red ribbon decorating it. Like a present just for her. No bow, but it would do.

Someone in her head knew how to do the thing with the… things. Two wires, feel the click, move the tumblers. The door opened. She twisted and turned so as not to disturb the pretty ribbons.

The apartment smelled. Smoke and stuff gone bad. Anger had been here, and hate. Hate was bad. Made you sick. She wasn't sick. She wasn't right in the head. _Bad doggy._

She padded to the cupboard and found cans of glass and tin. Tin cans, tin stars, tin men, tin suits, tin bars.

She found a loaf of bread and started ripping into it, chewing carefully. She did actually remember eating too fast when she'd not eaten in a long time, and vomiting it all up again. The waste of it was as bad as the sick of it.

She got hiccups from the bread. She drank the hiccups away with milk. It was wonderful.

"Sir, you really shouldn't be out here." Detective Morgan Leevy was sitting behind a dumpster, watching the apartment of the Reeges they had arrested earlier.

Besides him sat Frank Garalli, the Commissioner himself. Head Tin Man and one of the last of the Old Guard. Garalli had his black hat tipped low and he chewed on the end of a cigarillo he'd normally be smoking. But the smoke might give them away. So now his large, salt-and-pepper moustache twitched as he chewed.

"Son, the day I can't sit a stakeout is the day they drum me out of the job."

The New Regency Alliance was a spread-out group of rebels who wanted to oust the Gale dynasty and kill the current line of royalty. They were convinced the eldest princess was never possessed, but pure evil in her own right; and the family was protecting her. Frank had met the princesses. Danced with them both when his friend, Wyatt Cain, had married the youngest. Twern't an evil bone about Azkadellia now. Just a fragile, broken girl who had seen too much.

The Reeges had been dealt a terrible blow six months ago. They had kidnapped both princesses and planned to do to them what ought never be done to a woman, then kill them. Wyatt, his boy, and some sort of specialized group of guards, swept in and cleaned the place out. Cain got his girl back. Many of the leaders of the New Regency Alliance had been either killed or arrested. The groups would find some son-of-a-bitch bigger and meaner than the rest to start trouble again. However the numbers were getting low. There were death throes goin' on in the movement.

The hope of this stakeout was a member of another cell would come and try to clean out the place.

"We have movement." Morgan was watching the window of the apartment through binoculars.

Both Tin Men ran across the street and bounded up the stairs. The door to the apartment was open, but the crime tape remained intact.

There was a shadow of movement inside.

"Freeze and put your hands up." Frank's deep rumble filled the room. There was a small meeping sound.

"Just come out, hands up," Morgan ordered.

"Tin badge, tin hands, tin hearts, tin cans," the voice sounded sweet and female.

"Come on out," Frank urged.

The figure that stepped into the light was pitiful to behold. If it was a girl, it was hard to tell. She held something out in her hand offering it up.

"Gun." Morgan reacted before he thought. His revolver bucked and the near-skeletal creature folded to the floor.

"Damnit, Morgan! It's a street scamp. Call for a Healer, NOW." Frank was furious. He hated people with twitchy trigger fingers.

He approached the figure on the floor with caution and a thin, graceful hand held an apple out to him, even as she whimpered in pain. "Eat. It's good," She tried to look down her body. "My tummy hurts."

Matted hair; pale, pale face smudged with dirt; silver eyes too big for the face were wide with shock. She was wearing a shift of some sort, made up of hundreds of bits of different cloth. Scraps sewn together with an unskilled hand. The dirty covering was growing wet with blood.

"Hang in there, kid. Don't you die on me and give an old man's conscience somethin' more to bear," he knelt on creaking knees and placed pressure on the wound. She rewarded him by passing out.

A/N: I mentioned a semi-original character. 'Scraps' was introduced in the book 'The Patchwork Girl of Oz', and played major parts in 'The Gnome King of Oz','The Wonder City of Oz', and 'A Runaway in Oz'. She has been 'TinManized' by me. So she resembles the character in a new, unique manner.

Editors: "erinm_4600" erinm_, bets_cyn, "Naomi Starsiak" **n_e_star**


	2. Decisions

Title: Learning to Live 2: Decisions

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: Mine, all MINE! Muhahahaha! Hey, this jacket's a bit tight and the sleeves are too long…

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: "I don't believe you actually did that."_

"It's not that I'm unsympathetic, Frank, but I don't see what we can do. There are places better suited for this girl. Professional places," Wyatt Cain was leaning against his desk. His desk… he hated that. Maybe that was why he used it as little as possible.

"No, boy, there really isn't. Will ya let me finish? The Healers patched up her gunshot. They noticed somethin' wrong with her mind. On closer inspection, she had a zipper. But if this little scrap of a thing was ever a hardcase in need of reeducation, I'll eat my own hat. 'Sides that, she weren't missin' part of her brain. The Healers said her left side was a patchwork, like someone quilted together a bunch of different brains to make a whole lobe. Also said it's older work: they figure it's been healed at least ten years maybe fifteen. Guessin' her age is somewhere in the early ta mid twenties means she was just a mite when this was done," Frank Garalli shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Someone messed with this girl, Wyatt. She's been on the streets for a while. Besides, you just happen to have the first person to have brain re-integration here and all those experts still here studyin' and monitorin' their patient. You also have another broken little girl."

That was likely the longest spat of words Wyatt had ever heard from Garalli's mouth. "I sympathize. I'm sure we can do something to secure her a place somewhere she can better be helped." Wyatt didn't really like the idea of turning down this request. His first priority had to be security: they just couldn't afford to set a precedent on accepting charity cases here at the palace. As much as he'd like to make sure whoever did this to the kid got theirs, bringing her here was just impossible.

Frank gave him that glare. That 'I'm-disappointed-in-you-boy-as-I-know-you-can-do-better' stare. The one that made him feel like a damn fool in the Academy and made him squirm on the force. The one that still had him shifting uncomfortably, like a schoolboy in the headmaster's office after being caught with a bag of bullshit in his pocket.

"We can have the experts look at her. But this is the palace, not a hospital or asylum. She can't stay here," Wyatt grumbled. He resented Frank having such a psychological advantage over him.

"I'll keep her then. Never did have family. She's a bit old to adopt, but I'll be responsible for her. Would have liked a girl," Frank stood and held out his hand.

"You're supposed to be Commissioner of the Tin Man, not a collector of strays and waifs," Cain shook the offered hand.

"Mmm. Seems you did a bit of pickin' up strays and waifs yourself there, boy. Look at the charmin' wife you got as a reward." Garalli grinned as he sat his black leather hat back on his longish, gray hair.

"Get out of here, Frank. Bring the girl in tomorrow. Maybe we can even have Glitch take a look and weigh in. But if she's got a full-up skull, I really don't know what can be done. Take the patchwork part out?" Cain grabbed his coat from the rack by the door.

"Maybe that's what she needs. Maybe it'd make her better," Frank lit his smoke and followed Wyatt out into the spacious hallways of the royal palace.

Cain shook his head. Now, if only DG didn't find out about this and want to keep the girl as if she were another puppy. Wyatt was certain he was making a mistake but it was already done.

* * *

The next day, Glitch was in the library studying records and making charts of the weather patterns over the last hundred years.

He wasn't about to try to control the heavens again. Never, ever. But predicting weather with some accuracy could allow farmers to know what crops it was best to plant each year; if it was going to be dry or rainy, hotter than usual or colder. This project had branched off from the storm monitor. Since he was in his right mind… and his left one as well, he chuckled. He found himself remembering prior ideas or others sneaking up on the spot. He spent most of his time between the library and his lab, occasionally venturing to his room to sleep when he had to. One of his few routine breaks was to keep up DG's 'dancing' lessons.

The door to the library burst open and Azkadellia and Raw entered, followed by Azkadellia's bodyguard, Kayla, and a brindle-coated greyhound, still in the middle of puppyhood.

"Is this some kind of new family trait? Because your mother never just bursts in when I'm doing something," He rested his fists on his hips.

"This is a rescue operation, actually," Azkadellia smirked and simply pointed at him.

Raw and Kayla looped their arms through Glitch's and started to propel him forward. Gregory danced around the three, tail wagging enough to fan the air and ruffle the papers on the library table.

"Hey! Wait… I'm in the middle of…"

"Yes, something or other of grave importance, blah, blah, blah..." Azkadellia turned on her heel and led the way as Raw and blonde, sassy Kayla pulled him along, threatening to drag him if he didn't cooperate.

They pulled him out to the balcony with a view of the valley—the one where the group of friends occasionally took breakfasts together. The table there was full of bread, cheese, and fruit, as well as a selection of drinks. DG was sitting out there already and she began to laugh.

"I don't believe you actually did it. You kidnapped him," the younger princess tried to get a hold on her chuckles.

Azkadellia pointed to a seat and Raw and Kayla dropped Glitch into it. Raw took a seat, but Kayla moved to stand near the entrance to the balcony, as her counterpart - DG's guard, Marion - was already pacing by the stone banister, watching for any sign of trouble.

"You're losing weight, and while you may not be stuffy Ambrose anymore, dear Glitch, you get so caught up in things you forget there are people who would like to see you once in a while. Now, sit and eat." Az tossed him an apple.

There was a throat clearing in the doorway leading to the balcony. DG looked up and grinned, motioning for the man standing there to come over and have a seat. Her step-son ran his fingers through his tussled blonde hair. "I only have about a half an hour before I inspect the new trainees, Highnesses."

Az looked up in pleased surprise and glanced quickly at her sister.

"Wyatt is 'pulling a Glitch' and working through lunch. I made sure food was sent. Anyway, I invited Jeb to join us." DG winked at her sister who looked away and tried to hide a smile trying to sneak out of the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, I'm supposed to go meet with the Healers and Alchemists after nooning. I'll never get those charts done today," Glitch sounded mournful. "There's somebody coming who they think can be helped like I was."

"Really?" DG looked interested. "Did they say who or how or…"

"Nope. Cain just asked me to talk with the team that took care of me and consult." Glitch bit into the apple Az had tossed him.

"Cain said?" DG's eyes narrowed. "We're gonna have to have another talk about communication and sharing. He better not make me spank him."

Azkadellia started to choke on her papay fruit and Jeb went pale before burying his face in his hands. It was obvious he was wishing for brain bleach.

When Az was able to breathe again her eyes were watery and her voice sounded rough, "Glitch, if you're going to be consulting all the better I had you dragged out here," Azkadellia pointed up, into the sky. "See those glowing orbs in the sky? They are called the suns. I don't think you've seen them in a week."

Across the table, Jeb Cain's lip's twitched. He was slowly becoming more and more comfortable with the less–than-formal demands of the Princesses and their friends.

"I've seen them," Glitch protested. "I pass windows, you know."

DG snorted in a very un-ladylike manner. "You only see them through the windows? I think you just got yourself committed to at least a week's worth of lunches right here."

The rest of the light lunch was spent in good companionship: lots of teasing, and quiet laughter. DG kept checking on Azkadellia and Jeb. They seemed to smile at each other, then look away uncomfortably.

Now that the freak-out factor had time to wear down, they were kinda cute together. Besides that, Azkadellia needed someone to take care of her, a protector who could handle her problems. Jeb Cain was the kind who needed to be needed. He had to have someone to look after, be it his people, the palace guard, or… Azkadellia. Of course, that observation - and the fact that, if they did get together, the family tree would look like a Celtic knot - made her wonder if this was a show material for Doctor Phil.

* * *

Frank watched the girl seated across from him in the carriage. She was quite a surprise once she was scrubbed up. Her matted brown hair was close to getting shaved off when a Healer got his sister and a valiant effort produced something amazing: coppery red curls. Tight spiral curls that fluffed into a wild mass. That hair was now pulled to the sides in messy braids, leaving the shiny zipper in her head as a part.

Scrubbing her down had revealed not all the color on her was dirt. She was pale, yes, but she was covered in freckles, everywhere. Her too-big eyes were a light silver-grey color, and their depths switched from intelligent knowing to childlike confusion. She was pitifully thin, barely any hips, and little up top. Frank blushed at the observation. Not something a guardian would notice at all. She was also small. Full-grown woman or not, the top of her head barely hit the middle of his chest.

When this was mentioned at the hospital, in a moment of surprising insight, she had shrugged and announced that the pituitary had been affected by the process. No one had to ask what process.

The clothes she wore were handed down to her from that kind-hearted Healer's sister. The long skirt was a patchwork of suede in muted brown, green, black, and cream squares. She seemed to like that choice best. It made him think on the shift made of scraps she'd been wearing when she'd been shot. She also now had a pair of deep maroon cowboy boots, which she declared the most comfortable things she'd ever worn. She kicked at stones with the pointed toes and even hugged them to her in sleep, as if they would be taken from her. Hell, on the streets, they likely would have been.

He'd called her Scraps when she woke up in the hospital and he tried to soothe her. The nickname kinda stuck, as she had no idea what her real name was.

"I'm going to see a scarecrow," Scraps smiled at Frank.

"You're going to see some Healers and possibly a Knight of the Realm. He even has a real white horse. Too bad for you, he's already won his fair princess," Frank didn't know why he'd reacted so quick to this little girl.

Maybe because she seemed like a broken china doll, held together with glue, spit and hope. Maybe because she'd been half-starved, bruised, scarred, and one of his own had put a bullet in her for holding an apple. There was just something about her…

Scraps shook her head. "Nope, a scarecrow surrounded by flappy birds, peacocks and doves." Then her eyes shifted a bit and she looked shy. "The woods are beautiful. I can smell the life in them. Where are we going?"

"To the main palace of the O.Z.," he answered her for the fourth time on the journey. "To see a scarecrow."

She looked at him sidelong. "Why would a scarecrow be in a palace? Do I know you? Oh yes, the man from the hospital. Made them scrub me up all shiny and new. Copper penny still has dents. You took me home. The man armored in tin with the squishy insides. You collect broken toys." Her smile was sad and wistful. "I knew a man who collected things once. In the bad place." She suddenly shivered violently.

Frank leaned forward, knowing they were heading towards a clue about who had done this to her. "What man? Where is the bad place?"

She looked at him, eyes big and haunted. "He made death for sale. So much death. And he collected… things. He collected me and my bits."

"A name, darlin' do you remember his name?"

Scraps looked at Frank sharply. "I like the woods," her head turned to look out the carriage window. "They're dark and deep. And I have miles to go before I sleep."


	3. Looking and Seeing

Title: Learning to Live 3: Looking and Seeing

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: If they were mine I'd be writing books, not fanfic. I write for love. I write for fun. I do not write for profit.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: _"Are you going to unscramble my eggs?" Scraps tilted her head and looked up at Wyatt not-sir._

"Wyatt, meet Scraps. Scraps, this is Sir Wyatt Cain. You can skip the 'sir' part. He doesn't like it: unless he's your boss." Scraps looked up at the man she was meeting. He had the palest hair, silver-blue eyes and a pale complexion. He also looked like he could break her in half with his pinkies.

"Locked out of the sun while standing in it," she muttered then remembered to gracefully curtsy. "Sorry. Bad doggy, bad form. Niceties first."

The blond Wyatt-not-sir was a man made of tin, like Frank. No one said, but it was there. Always worn, star on the chest and heart on the sleeve. _Wasn't that supposed to be the other way around? _ But he wasn't dressed all formal like a prince in a castle. His sleeve was cotton and vest of leather. He dressed a little like Frank.

"No bad dogs, Scraps." Frank put a hand on her shoulder. It was comforting. The kindness of strangers, not often felt. She could feel the care and an undertaste of anger and sorrow.

Wyatt-not-sir frowned and turned suspicious eyes on the Frank one. "Tellin' tales?"

Frank shook his head. "Think she's a mite touched in more ways than one."

The not-sir seemed a bit more wary. There were two men in uniforms, starched red jackets with black trousers. They wore guns on their hips. Guards. Was she in trouble again? Wyatt-not-sir held out his hand and she shook it. Strong fingers; working hands, not palace hands. He didn't belong, yet he did. Loyalty, honor and vigilance. She wasn't in trouble.

Scraps tilted her head and looked up at Wyatt-not-sir. "Are you going to unscramble my eggs?"

He chuckled. "I'm not sure eggs can be unscrambled, kiddo. But if they can, the people we have here can do it." He took that tone she was used to but didn't care for. Like he was talking to a child.

Scraps nodded. "When you break your eggs, you make an omelet. Mine has a lot of stuff tossed in, willy-nilly. Who made that word? Willy-nilly? It's as strange as patronizing. That's another silly word. It's something often regretted."

Not-sir rocked back on his heels, reassessing the woman who may be little and a girl, but was not a little girl. "You're right at that. I think underestimating is an interesting word, too. Lots of syllables."

Frank followed the conversation as if watching a pong-ball match. It was damn interesting.

"Yup," Scraps popped the p sound. "When you chew on those syllables it tastes like eating your own words."

"That it does," Wyatt-not-sir offered the hint of a true smile. "It seems I have a habit of tasting those words when it comes to young ladies. You'd think I'd have learned by now."

The Frank one snorted with amusement.

"Come on then, Scraps. There are some people to meet," Not-sir motioned to proceed down the hall.

They, and the two guards with their guns, moved through the palace. There were paintings and art, plants and marble, and royal things for show. Wyatt-not-sir didn't care about any of them. His cares were living and breathing. A good man.

Frank was talking about her and she tuned him out to look around at all the prettiness. She paused in front of a portrait of a pretty woman. "There is a portrait that kept a man young. The painting became a horror, absorbing the ills. It was stabbed and the man died. The collector had it behind glass. The hole was so carefully fixed."

Wyatt and Frank had stopped and turned to look at her as she spoke.

"The Collector. You talked of him in the carriage," Frank walked back to stand beside her.

"I did?" _Did she?_ She couldn't recall.

"Said he collected all sorts of things and built death," He tried to remind her.

"Carbine guns and armor on wheels. Explosions in the palm of your hand and hatred in metal. He made these to collect his magic items," Scraps agreed. "The painting, the bed, the crystal orbs and the shoes of silver were his favorites. He also loved to build new things. The challenge of the art of destruction."

She could remember the painting. It scared her: there was something dark and hurtful about it even though the man pictured held an unearthly beauty. The shoes were okay, but seemed rather silly, if full of magic. The crystals were deceptively innocent but innately dark. And the bed was… neither good or bad, but old and earthy. There were many other things he had collected, but those Four were the ones he most valued. Then it poured out: whatever she recalled was gone.

"You're Frank, and I'm Scraps, and he's Not-sir," Scraps muttered, as much to herself as Frank. Sometimes repetition helped to hold on to things.

"Yeah. That's right, darlin. Come on," Frank sounded so sad, she wondered why. He was nice.

Wyatt-not-sir was talking to Frank again. "Some of that sounds like the new weapons the Longcoats started using. Someone was developing bigger, better guns and those armored tanks. Maybe I should speak with Azkadellia."

* * *

They took her to a room full of people—five men and a female Viewer—and a mirror for show reflected everything. _Everything was opposite in the mirror. Were good people bad in there? Were people in their right mind mad and those mad were sane?_

There was one man her eyes turned to. His dark hair was curly, not like hers, not nearly. There was a hint of a scar peeking out of the middle of his hairline, mostly hidden by a few soft, stray curls. His eyes were toffee-brown and his nose was a bit crooked. He was looking at her with interest and curiosity. He made her tummy feel funny.

One of the men in a suit of green stepped towards her. "We've heard a good deal about you, young lady. We'd very much like to see what is going on inside your head, and we shall see if there is anything we can do to help your thoughts to be clearer."

Scraps shrugged. "That's nice. Do you wear light green because it's supposed to be soothing?"

She bit her lip. _That was bad. Not polite._ The words just spilled out before she could try to stop them. Not that she had tried too hard.

* * *

Well, she was unexpected. The woman who was brought in was reed thin and looked the size of a child. No, she moved like a woman. And there was something old around her eyes. Her hair was… red. And springy where the braids ended. Very springy.

Introductions were made all around. Scraps seemed a poor choice of a name for her. But it was no worse than Glitch, he supposed. And he'd grown quite attached to that one.

"Can you remember who performed the operation, Ms. Scraps?" Hilow, the alchemist present asked.

"I can't remember who I am. Why would I remember someone else?" She crossed her arms, looking at the man as if **he** were the one with a brain problem.

"Yes. I suppose you do have a point," Hilow had the sense to look abashed. "So, there's no chance of finding out whose brains were patched together with yours."

"Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor, Rich Man, Poor Man, Beggar Man, Thief, Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief." She ticked off her fingers and her voice took on a sing-song quality.

The chief alchemist started jotting it down and Glitch rolled his eyes. "It's a children's rhyme, not a recipe."

Scraps looked at him again. Her silver eyes seemed to look into him. It made him feel twitchy.

"I think there is a cook. I know recipes. Or… maybe that was me, and there wasn't a cook. I don't know what was original. I'm not original. I'm left-over parts. A bit here, a bit there, stitch her up and see what she can do. I'm not right in the head."

Glitch found himself shaking his head. "Only because someone made you that way. And you're more right than you ought to be."

Scraps smiled at him. She was not beautiful. She would never be regal, or elegant, or classic. But her smile made her very pretty.

The alchemist and Healers urged her to take the chair next to the mirror. Scraps sat down and the female Viewer reached out to touch the girl's temple. The mirror shimmered and showed a three dimensional image of a brain. It was amazing. There were thin lines all around her left lobe. Yet everything matched up perfectly. There had to be … sixteen sections!

"This was done by a genius. An **insane** genius… but it's almost beautiful," the Healer present was in awe.

"Looks pink and squishy to me," Scraps cut in.

"That took artistry as well as a deep font of knowledge," Hilow ignored the girl.

"Hullo, right here," Scraps held her hand up and wiggled her fingers.

Glitch felt a lead weight in his stomach and a need to be sick. "Dr. Pipt. I'd bet half my mind that is the work of Dr. Pipt."

"Who's Dr. Pipt?" Cain called from the back of the room. Everyone turned, having forgotten that Wyatt and Frank were there.

"A genius. An alchemist and engineer, a sorcerer. A terrible and powerful combination. Rumor had it he was quite mad, twisted even. He also invented the procedure for brain removal." Glitch answered gravely.


	4. Mirror, Mirror

"Scraps, can you remember where you came from. Anything at all?" Glitch looked to the female Viewer and she nodded.

Scraps shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

In the mirror there was a cluttered workroom, filled with potions and powders, metal and gears, and guns. The walls appeared to be made of solid rock and there were no windows.

"Well, bring it here, you stupid girl," an impatient voice cut in. The view shifted to a man in his early sixties: he was stout, his face was round, and he wore a leather apron. There was a very large gun on a table before him. "The King of Ix will pay handsomely for a shipment of these. Then that flute will be mine."

"That was Dr. Pipt, all right," Glitch stated with certainty.

In the chair, Scraps was breathing hard through clenched teeth.

The image shifted to a dim alleyway. "You try my patience, Mr. Jonas. I'll pay you one hundred platinum for the gem and no more," a crooked-nosed man spoke.

Then, it changed again to a dizzying view, high above a crowd of clapping spectators. The view spun and then looked up to a grinning man, holding a woman's hands, his knees bent over a bar. "Go for a triple, luv."

"Those weren't mine. Borrowed and blue." Scraps squirmed in the chair and closed her eyes in concentration.

The scene in the mirror shifted. It looked like a museum, with many things on column pedestals. Seeing through Scrap's eyes, the observers looked at a wand made of silver, with a raw quartz tip. Another pedestal held a book with a mummified face on the front cover. Another displayed a large shield. Three crystal balls lay on yet another. And there were the silver shoes and a painting of a monster.

"Do you know where that was?" Wyatt-not-sir asked.

"Don't know, can't remember. Just bits and pieces." The scene shifted to a lush forest, then a field of cattle, then an expanse of sand.

Where was the question. _Where oh where has my little dog gone? Under rock, heavy, pressing down, dome ceiling, arched tunnels. Rabbit in a warren. Hide, hide before the farmer comes to snare you._ "Under the ground the magic is bound. He wanted to take their magic. He wanted to wield it as his own. He killed for some of his treasures, and he paid for them in blood."

His face filled the mirror and Scraps tried to sink into the chair.

"Stupid, stupid girl! That explosive can level a city. It isn't a toy. You could have killed us all! What am I going to do with you?" An ugly glint came to the man's face. "Oh, I know what to do with you. I'll make you perfect, my dear."

Scraps whimpered. "Stop! It hurts; it screams in my head."

The female Viewer immediately let go.

Scraps was weeping and shaking like a leaf. Without conscious thought, Glitch reached out and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, leaving his hand there.

Scraps drew her knees up and curled into the chair.

Glitch - she liked that name - crouched next to her. "It's in the past. We won't let him near you again." He had a kind voice.

"He's stone. I made him stone. Him and the two he commanded. I remember that. Little metal ball tossed, flashed before them and they were stone. Locked away forever. I hope." She swiped at some tears. _No leaking, don't leak; it's weakness, and people pry at weakness peel at the scab to see the blood. They kicked and hit._

"He has a weapon that can level a city?" Wyatt-not-sir looked troubled when she turned to look at him. "I don't think we can afford to let any of those weapons get into the wrong hands. They should be destroyed." He turned to look back at her. "You can't remember where that place is at all?"

"No. But I know some of the meeting places. Places he made trades. I think." In fact it was all a blur, flitting about in her head. Occasional solid images surfaced, tangible bits of memory. But they didn't make a whole. "Traps, he made traps. Made to capture curious mice. Magic and science and riddles guard his places. Secrets everywhere."

Scraps looked up at the alchemist and healers. Her voice was sad and resigned. "You can't fix what's broken, can you?"

"From the brief look we had, it appears that all the neural pathways have established themselves. We'll study, see what we can come up with. Don't give up hope yet." One the healers patted her shoulder like she was a child.

"There's nothing to put back. You can take out, but not put back." Her silver eyes were filled with disappointment. "That's alright. I've learned how to be broken."

* * *

Wyatt Cain caught Frank's eye and indicated the door. In the hallway, he looked at his old friend.

"You know we can't let those weapons lie around for anyone to find."

Frank nodded. "And let's not forget those shoes. They belong to the royals. You want her to lead you to 'em." Frank didn't look pleased. "She's confused and she's been used hard, boy. You do this, you swear you'll bring her back no worse than she is now."

"I'll do everything I can to make sure she's safe." Wyatt wasn't going to make a promise he couldn't keep.

"I'm going, too." Glitch was in the doorway, looking at both men. "She said everything was guarded by science, magic and riddles. You think you can do better in the science and alchemy department?"

Cain knew he couldn't. Glitch would also be able to take care of himself. "You're in."

Glitch looked down, then back up at Wyatt. His face told the former Tin Man that he wasn't going to like what came next. "That leaves someone who can handle magic."

"No. Absolutely not." Cain waved that idea away.

"You know we need a magic-wielder. You know Azkadellia couldn't handle this little venture. We have to ask her." Glitch placed his fists on his hips. "And she'd kill you if you didn't ask. At the very least, you'd be sleeping on a couch somewhere for weeks."

Cain was gritting his teeth. He could do with sleeping on a couch to keep DG safe. But she might never forgive him if she thought he didn't trust her.

"Fine. We'll consult with the Queen, and DG. I want Jeb to come along as well." Jeb could be deadly when the need arose; he could be stealthy and Cain trusted his son not only with his life, but with DG's as well.

"I'd go with you, but we both know I'm getting' on in years enough that a long ride and sleepin' on the ground would make me close to useless. Besides, Scraps hasn't agreed to any of this. It's her choice. I think she'll do it, so I'm goin' to entrust the two of you with her care." Frank pinned both men with his dark eyes. "Been a week, and already that girl's grown on me quite a bit. You drag her into this, you better bring her out as well."

"She'll be with three of the best protectors in the kingdom. Now let's go see the Queen and my wife." Cain didn't look eager for this meeting.


	5. Departures

Title: Learning to Live 5: Departures

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: This is actually being written by my ferrets. They own everything. Including me. Me they share with the cat.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: Glitch /SemiOC, DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb,

Summary: _"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Wyatt Cain asked the woman on the lead horse._

Queen Lavender was not happy with the idea. It was Azkadellia who convinced her. Dr. Pipt had, in fact, supplied her Longcoats with their new, deadlier weapons. Armored moving cannons, rifles that shot over fifty rounds before reloading and hand grenades. He had promised something that could launch a missile from miles away to strike a target with a powerful bomb. The O.Z. had gone from lever-action rifles and revolvers to what DG considered modern weapons in just three annuals time. That was what paved the way for the witch's rule.

Lavender conceded that someone had to find Pipt's lair and destroy not only the weapons, but all plans and blueprints for them. The team her son-in-law proposed did have the best chance.

"You do realize someone else is eventually going to invent these weapons? You can't really stop progress. Someone will make bigger, better guns in defense of their country, to reduce troop losses or for profit, like this sicko; or any of a dozen reasons," DG pointed out.

"We know that. But we can delay the inevitable. Perhaps by a century or two." Queen Lavender closed her eyes, her expression both pained and tired. Sending out her daughter, the future queen of the O.Z., weighed heavily on Lavender. There were still members of the New Regency Alliance at large and if they came across DG they wouldn't hesitate to strike. Lavender made sure to point that out.

"So we disguise me. I could pretend to be a boy," DG offered.

"Or you could wear an enchanted charm that makes you appear different to anyone who is not aware it is you," Azkadellia smiled. "Between the two of us, we can manage that."

It was decided that Scraps would stay at the palace for the two days it took to prepare for the journey. DG decided immediately that she liked the woman. She was clever under her idiosyncrasies and fun. She had courage to agree to this endeavor. Even if it did take a half a day to convince her to call Wyatt by his name, not Wyatt-not-sir.

* * *

The time quickly came that all arrangements were made, supplies gathered, means of communication established and so on.

Glitch had changed to comfortable travel clothing. In fact, he wore a clean and well-tailored version of the clothing he'd had for years. His coat was brown, and there was no trim on it, but he had decided to go with what he knew worked. He was heading down towards the stables to go over everything when he caught sight of Scraps out the open double doors that lead to the balcony.

His heart lodged in his throat. _She was going to get herself killed._

Scraps was wearing a pair of patchwork trousers and a loose top that flapped in the updraft. She was walking on the banister, four stories above the ground. Her arms were held out for balance, her bare feet placed one in front of the other with measured steps.

_Don't startle her_, was the first thing to come to his mind after the initial shock.

"'Lo, Glitch. Is it time to go already?" She had a huge grin on her face; her crazy mass of copper curls whipped about and had to be half blinding her.

"Erm, yes it is. Would you mind coming down from there? It's quite a drop." He hated heights. Despised them really.

"Not so far. I recall traveling with a circus with a husband I never had. Flying and walking a rope up so high." She bent backwards and did a flip, landing perfectly on the stone rail.

"Yes, I'm sure you're quite the talent. But you really should get down. We have to go." He was walking slowly towards her, still not wanting to startle the odd woman.

"Right. Time to go. I don't want to, you know. I never wanted to see that place again, when I remember it at all. But what has to be done is right and just."

She leapt towards him and he just managed to catch her in his arms. She barely weighed a thing. It was a miracle the wind hadn't blown her away. Scraps laughed at the expression on his face.

"Knew you'd catch me, silly. You wouldn't let me fall. Not ever." She retrieved her maroon cowboy boots and pulled them on. "Time to ride away. Come fly away with me."

* * *

In another part of the castle a different scene was playing out.

"You weren't even going to say goodbye, were you?" Azkadellia stepped in front of Jeb Cain.

"I figured you'd be with the farewell gathering in the stables, your Highness." Jeb looked uncomfortable, nervous even.

"I'll miss our chess matches. There aren't very many opponents like you," Azkadellia looked just as nervous, wringing her hands.

She finally looked him directly in the eye. "Come back safe and sound, Jeb Cain. Don't you dare go and get hurt."

"I don't plan on it. Kinda hoping the whole trip is boring." He couldn't shift his gaze away from hers.

She made him feel dizzy sometimes. She was beautiful, sweet, kind… damaged. He wanted to help her become strong again, but it wasn't really his place to offer anything more than protection and some friendship.

"I know how plans can go. Especially any that involve DG," she moved quickly and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He was stunned but reacted quickly to pull her back towards him by her nape. Her lips were soft and warm. She seemed to melt into him as she sighed into the kiss. He didn't deepen it and stepped back, wondering to himself what the hell he thought he was doing.

She caught his hand as he stepped away. Her eyes were a bit glazed but she had a soft smile on her lips. She wasn't offended, the opposite by the looks of things. Holding her hand he gave a gentle squeeze. "I'll come back."

She smiled at him, then turned and walked away.

Jeb stood in the hallway for a moment. _Oh, shit._ Life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

* * *

In the stables the small traveling party gathered with family and friends, with Azkadellia glaringly absent. She'd said her goodbyes to all in private and didn't feel like crying in front of everyone.

DG looked just like DG to everyone present, but thanks to a charm on her locket to anyone else she looked like a buxom blonde with dark eyes and a round face. Her first reaction when she saw her reflection was not understood by any present.

"Oh my God, I'm the St. Pauli girl!"

Seven horses waited. Five saddled, two packed with provisions. This trip across the O.Z. would include regular meals and tents at night.

After a round of hugs and well wishes they group set out. As they passed the palace gates, Jeb Cain looked back. He saw Azkadellia, her dog beside her, standing on the main balcony. She raised her hand slowly in a wave. She didn't move until they were well out of sight.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Wyatt Cain asked the woman on the lead horse.

"Over the river and through the woods," She turned her head to look back at the others. "I remember a cave. I'm almost certain it's in Winkie Dutchy. There was a windmill, I think; you could see it from the mouth of the cave. The bad man kept things there, and traded death for magic there sometimes. It's full of traps."

"She's **almost** certain, and she **thinks** there was a windmill. Oh, this trip is gonna be loads of fun." Wyatt muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose..

DG laughed. "Think of it as our last great adventure. At least we get out of classes, counsel meetings, and all those dinners. My only regret is not getting to wear my new dress to the anniversary ball."

"You were looking forward to wearing a dress? Why am I thinking there would have been some sort of trouble and maybe the open road is a blessing?" Wyatt looked suspiciously at his wife.

"Because you are, by nature, a very suspicious person. And because you know me very well—too well. I'm glad the name Halle Berry means nothing to you, so the dress will remain a surprise until the next stupid dance," DG grinned at him.


	6. Discomfort

Title: Learning to Live 6: Discomfort

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: Can I have a no? Can I have a HELL no.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: Glitch /SemiOC, DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb,

Summary: _She was exasperating._

They made camp while there was still light. Glitch refused to be beaten by a length of canvas and some sticks. He'd never actually put up a tent before. For years he'd slept in the open, or under things, whatever, but a tent had never been part of the equation. He finally managed to get the thing up, even if it was a little droopy in the middle. He had one of the most daunting intellects in the O.Z., yet this damn tent seemed impossible to assemble.

When he looked around after mastering the tent, he found Jeb and Cain already had completed theirs and were nowhere to be found. DG had cleared an area of anything flammable and was setting up a fire pit surrounded by rocks.

"Glitch, can you collect some firewood? Be careful, Wyatt and Jeb went out to see if they can get any small game before dark falls," DG was pulling out provisions now.

"Right, firewood," he looked at the woodland around them. Lots of wood, no problem.

He spotted Scraps then: the woman had not pitched her tent. She had it on the ground with the edges gathered in like a canvas nest and her blanket in the middle. She knelt in the middle and looked at him with a triumphant grin.

"Clear night. I like the stars," she explained, seeming to read his mind about her inability to set up a tent.. If she didn't know how to put up her tent, she wasn't admitting to it. "I'll help. I know gathering wood. Gathering and chopping and stoking the furnaces."

"Sure. Just stay at the edge of the camp," he headed for the nearest deadfall.

When he stopped, he found Scraps was immediately behind him because she smacked into his back. He spun in surprise, for she hadn't made a sound, his hand ready for a strike. She immediately crouched and covered her head waiting for the blow to land.

"Don't DO that!" He let out a breath, his heart thundering in his ears. It took a minute for Glitch to process her reaction. "Hey, hey, now. Come on, I'm not gonna hit you."

"No. You catch me." She nodded and unfolded a bit timidly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle. Just wanted to help. I'll be a good doggy."

"Help over there. Pick up the dry deadfall," Glitch pointed a small distance away.

"Alright," She moved just as silently to the tangle of woody brush he'd pointed to.

Glitch had quite an armload of wood when he checked for Scraps. The girl was nowhere to be seen. _Great, just great!_ Now they'd end up scouring the woods for her.

He took his load back to the campsite so he could explain where he'd be off to when he noticed Scraps sitting in her tent-nest. She looked up at him and beamed at him. With dimples. "See, didn't startle you."

_She was exasperating. _

"No, I thought I'd have to go look for you," he dropped the wood near DG, who seemed greatly amused.

"Well, even you can't always think right. Maybe you should think left, tilted, and a little off to the side." Scraps stood up and moved to help DG.

"I'm remembering how to cook now. Oat porridge with dried fruit for breakfast. Boil it good. And the mushrooms I found with the three rabbits the others bring back. Save the bones for soup stock tomorrow night." She told DG.

"You picked mushrooms?" Glitch looked worried. "You do know there are many poisonous varieties out here."

"Yes, puffballs, chicken mushrooms, and hedgehog mushrooms too. Nice mix, rich flavors. Fun with the fungi. You took a long time with the wood." Scraps pointed to a good-sized pile of wood then to her trove of fungus.

"How did you... Never mind. We have enough wood, right?" He was still a bit frustrated by her wandering off. No wonder DG liked her. How had she gathered wood and collected mushrooms in the time it took him to do just one of those tasks?

"Found one while searching for the other. Mushrooms near the expired wood. Right alongside. Brought back one, retraced steps and collected the other. Stretches provisions." Scraps grabbed a sharp knife and began slicing the larger delicacies.

DG chuckled. "She has you there. And it was a good thing you didn't see her come back. She collected them in her shirt by taking it off."

"Not much to see on me. No one would care, so there. You looked like a landed fish."

DG shook her head, "What I want to know is how you're so sure the men will shoot three rabbits?"

"Don't shoot, snare. See tracks and set traps." Scraps tried shoving several locks of curls behind her ear, but it just sprang back out at the first opportunity.

_It was almost charming_. No, Glitch told himself, he did not just think that. _She was __aggravating__._ But then, so was he before the operation. And still was sometimes. He still glitched. Now the shoe was on the other foot.

In a few hours, when it was almost full dark, the Cain boys returned to camp with three rabbits already skinned and cleaned.

"You are spooky, Scraps," DG announced.

"Sometimes I know things." The redhead shrugged. "Oh, mushrooms! Where did they come from?"

"I'm not eating those." Glitch insisted.

* * *

In the end, everyone ate the mushrooms sautéed in some of the drippings from the rabbits with a bit of garlic. After several compliments to Scraps from the others, Glitch had given in.

"We'll set up a watch rotation, but we should make it an early night," Cain announced once the remains of dinner were cleaned up and put away. "I want to get an early start tomorrow."

Jeb spoke up. "I remember an area of Winkie Dutchy that has quite a few windmills. They grow a lot of wheat in the northeastern region. There's a hilly area running near the boarder. Likely to find caves there. But once we hit the general area, you're going to have to guide us, Ms. Scraps."

Scraps chuckled. "Ms. Scraps. That's just silly. I'm just Scraps. Left over parts and odd bits. Just Scraps."

"You're more than that," Glitch spoke softly, then met the looks the others gave him. "What?"

"Nothing." DG stood up. "Which watch am I?"

"First. You aren't a morning person, so I want you getting as much uninterrupted sleep as possible, for all of our sakes," Wyatt ducked the swipe at his head.

"I'll take last. I like the mornings. The day is fresh and new, and all is quiet. Just me , the birds and the other squirrels, " Scraps spoke up.

The others looked a bit alarmed.

"I like mornings, myself. I might stay up with you a while then." Jeb offered.

Scraps crossed her arms and glared. "My eggs may be scrambled about, but my eyes and ears are just fine."

"But will you remember you were supposed to be keeping watch? No offense, but you do have a jumpy recollection." Cain spoke up. He didn't see DG wince at his bluntness.

"New things catch my eye. Things that move, things that sound, catch them quick so I can go to ground. Would be rotting on the ground if I didn't sense danger. So take that, William." Scraps' silver eyes glinted in the firelight.

The only sound for a moment was the crackle of the fire and the crickets.

"Oh, come on! I know you're name is Wyatt. Doesn't anyone here have a sense of humor?" Scraps stood up and stomped to her tent-nest.

"Well… we handled that one well." Glitch looked into the fire.

"Do you trust her keeping watch alone?" Cain asked, his voice low.

"Well, we haven't gotten sick from the mushrooms yet. And you brought back three bunnies. It isn't exactly easy knowing you should know things and not being able to remember. But *I* kept watch the first week we knew each other." Glitch stood up, himself and left the warmth of the fire.

"Diplomacy lessons not sinking in, huh?" DG sat next to her husband and laid her head on his shoulder.

"This isn't negotiations, darlin'. This is me being responsible for all of us." He stirred the fire with a long stick.

"I think I'm going to turn in. Like you said… early start and all." Jeb moved away as well.

"See, he didn't even take diplomacy 101." DG grinned then gave Wyatt a lingering goodnight kiss. "Go get a few hours rest before I wake you."


	7. Crossing That Bridge

Title: Learning to Live 7: Crossing That Bridge

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Pfft:: Yeah, right.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: "I feel like dancing." Scraps announced as she finished sopping up the last of the stew with a bit of bread._

The middle of the second day they came to a river. At some point recently it must have flooded badly—the bridge was washed out. There were the broken and jagged signs of the bridge's anchor points, and three support beams sticking up from the fast flowing water as if broken teeth. The river was a good half mile across.

"There has to be another bridge. There's been no wheat or flour shortage," Cain was certain he'd have heard about it if there had. All those meetings with complaining merchants and nobles, someone would have brought a grain shortage to light within 24 hours of the first missed shipment.

"Oh, there's most likely several of them. But how far are they? This is the one my people crossed two years ago," Jeb squinted against the glare of the suns, saluting for shade as he tried to judge the depth and current of the water before them.

"If it gets shallow enough somewhere, we can ford it, can't we?" DG questioned. She didn't look forward to soaking everything not wrapped in good oilcloth, or the thought of deep water. Nope, not deep water at all. She thought she could taste silt in the back of her throat and smell algae in her nose.

"No. Nope. No way. No," Scraps spoke up and urged her horse alongside the others. "I don't swim, I sink. Rest along with the fishies. Nope. Bridge or ferry… not the kind with wings," she explained, as if the distinction were necessary. By now her hair had mostly escaped the confines of her braids and odd patches of springy curls sprouted all over her head glinting fire and copper in the sun.

"If we don't come across a bridge by nightfall, we'll have to ford the river in the morning. We won't let you sink, kid," Wyatt promised.

Scraps didn't look happy. In fact, she looked very worried. She was almost translucently pale under the tan freckles. DG didn't much blame her. DG could swim, and swim well, but for the past six months water deeper than her waist brought her close to panic. Nearly being drowned did that to a person.

"We'll mange, if it comes to it." DG smiled reassuringly at the redhead. "It's not my first choice, either. I might try magicking us across before trying to swim it."

* * *

It was close to dark, with a half day had been spent looking for a crossing, when they found a small town with a ferry, run by ropes and bored looking mules on either bank.

"All right, we'll stay in town tonight. There's a tavern. If there are no rooms, there should be a boarding house for visiting merchants," Cain's eyes took in everything around them, sensing for threats.

A scarf was tied around Scraps head to hide the zipper, peeking out where her mass of curls didn't cover it. No need to borrow trouble.

Cain led them to the tavern with a placard over the door, displaying an inebriated Capuchin monkey holding a tankard. Faded letters spelled out: 'The Drunken Monkey.'

There were stables, but no stable boy so they tended to their own horses. Scraps mimicked what the others did with some amount of success. Glitch tried not to smile as he helped her remove the saddle. During the journey, she had apparently gotten bored and had braided the gelding's mane: dozens of braids hung neatly along his neck. Scraps was one of those people who had to be occupied and her attention span needed some lengthening.

Arranging for two rooms Cain ordered dinner while the others found a table. The menu was limited to the house stew and bread or the house stew and bread. As if to make up for the lack of variety in the food the selection of ales looked promising.

Some of the local men were eyeing DG like she was fresh meat. Azkadellia was so gonna pay for making this disguise illusion have big boobs.

Luckily Cain seemed to notice the looks as he sat beside DG. He placed his arm around her shoulder: the universal macho signal for 'hands off, she's mine.' DG may have been uncomfortable with the ogling, but she had to struggle to keep from laughing at her husband's overt message. Subtle he wasn't. Especially for a guy who wasn't big into PDAs.

"If we cross tomorrow morning, we should reach the farming lands by late afternoon," Jeb pointed out. "But we won't make the hills until late afternoon or early evening."

"Then we'll camp at the foot of the hills. We have to let our guide figure out where this meeting point is," Cain decided.

Everyone looked at Scraps, who seemed oblivious and was scratching at some spilt wax on the table with her thumbnail.

"And that may take a while." Jeb sighed. Well the weapons cache had hopefully been untouched for this long, a few more days of fumbling around wouldn't hurt.

Their meal arrived and they ate for a while in relative silence. The food was surprisingly good; DG, Cain and Jeb seemed to appreciate the ale. But Glitch only sipped at it and tried not to make a face.

Scraps wasn't so mannerly. "This tastes like pee smells. And the bubbles make me want to sneeze," She muttered across the table.

"I take it you'd prefer something else?" Cain appeared to be amused.

"Water or milk or tea would be nice." Scraps grinned.

"I doubt milk or tea is on the menu here," Cain responded and called over the tavern maid to ask for some water.

"Make that two," Glitch rang in before the maid walked away.

"A teatotaler?" DG smiled at Glitch.

"No. Just not an ale drinker. I like whiskey, but I think a clear head is best." He didn't point out that he did like tea, thanks. And a good wine. That was one of the bits of Ambrose he could appreciate.

"Alcohol burns inside and out. Why do people lick the sting? Screams on a wound and fire down the throat." Scraps shuddered.

Glitch frowned at her shudder. It wasn't about something as small as burning beverages. He knew through experience that pouring cheep rotgut down a zipperhead's throat to laugh at them or worse was considered sport by real lowlifes. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and promise her she was safe now. Unfortunately there was a table between them.

"The hard stuff burns, poppet. A nice wine shouldn't. I suppose ale doesn't either," Glitch looked disdainfully down at the mug before him.

"I feel like dancing," Scraps announced out of nowhere as she finished sopping up the last of the stew with a bit of bread.

"No music. I don't think we need the extra attention, Scraps." Jeb looked around.

Most of the people had started to ignore them; strangers were interesting but, evidently, common enough. It was the ones still glancing at them that had him concerned.

"I'm looking forward to a full night of sleep without having to set a guard," DG sighed contentedly while patting her full stomach.

"Spoiled already," Cain muttered.

"Yep. And you helped spoil me mister. Come on, Scraps, let's go find our room and get some sleep," DG stood and headed for the open stairs leading to the second floor of the building.

Scraps followed behind her, a bit reluctantly.

Two hours later, Jeb and Glitch were playing cards in the main room of the tavern. Cain had said his goodnights and left.

"Second night in a row. The two of them are gonna be getting grumpy soon. Sexual frustration makes them both snippy," Glitch threw out a card and picked up another.

"I don't need to be thinking about stuff like that, Glitch. We're talking about my father." Jeb took a card.

"I didn't expect you to be such a prude. Sheesh," Glitch rearranged the cards in his hand.

"My father, Glitch. I'll have you know I was found under a cabbage leaf. Parents never do anything but hold hands and kiss now and then. Thinking along any other lines causes severe mental trauma." Jeb watched Glitch left hand play with the stones they were using as chips.

Glitch looked at Jeb. "Okay cabbage-head, I'm out." He lay down several matched suits and numbers.

"Glitch, that's for rummy. We're playing poker." Jeb shook his head.

"Are you sure?" The dark-haired man scratched his head.

"Positive."

Glitch's head shot up. "Uh oh!"

"What?" Jeb looked in the direction Glitch was looking: right out a window that showed the walkway between the tavern and its stables. A lantern lit the walkway.

"I just saw red curls flash by the window. I think she decided to wander. Unless that hair took off without her," Glitch stood up.

"I'll get her," Jeb stood as well. "She needs a keeper. Or a leash."

"DG is your job, I'll go. Can't be that hard to follow that hair." Glitch smirked.

The night was on the cool side, but the village had lanterns lit outside most buildings. Ahead Glitch saw the swish of a multicolored skirt as it disappeared around the corner. She was heading towards the river.

He really hoped she remembered that she couldn't swim.


	8. Dance With The Devil

Title: Learning to Live 8: Dance with the devil

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Glitch would have lost Scraps along the riverside if it weren't for the full moon. This place seemed to only light the main street and businesses. Most of the people in the small town were in their homes and safely abed so, seeing movement at the river's edge sent him running. He didn't want to call after her and cause a disturbance at this hour.

She was not far from the ferry landing. Her arms twined above her head, her body weaving and swaying to music only she could hear. She rolled her hips and swung her body; every move was slow and seductive, beckoning and enticing. She was no longer wearing a scarf over her hair. Her wild curls bobbed as she moved. The glint of the zipper barely peaked out and shimmered for a moment as a jewel would. Her appearance hadn't changed, except the leeching of color in the moonlight, but her dance seemed to make her something… more. It enhanced her delicate grace and made her slender form alluring. She wasn't confused or funny or exasperating as she swayed and twirled. She was something fey and wild - touched by old magiks; she was also sensuous, passionate, ethereal and things he really shouldn't be thinking about her.

Glitch stood there, leaning against the wood at the corner of a boat shack. He was captivated by the slow turn of her body, the undulation of her hips. It took him several long moments to remember he was out here to take Scraps back to the tavern, not gape in wonder. Then he considered, what was it hurting to let her get this dancing out of her system? He could understand the love of dance… and she certainly had grace and rhythm, although not the kind he was used to; the courtiers at the ball would be absolutely horrified by her kind of dancing. He wondered if she'd consider dancing with a partner.

The dance she was weaving seemed oddly familiar, though; like he had seen it before. The memory was just out of reach in his mind. It was in there, he just had to make the connection.

"Hey, look what we have here."

Glitch stood straight at the voice. He saw three young men approaching Scraps where she danced, not even pausing at the sound of them. She was oblivious of how enticing and beguiling she looked as slowly turned an arm outward, her hands gracefully positioned as she rolled her hips.

"Whatch doin' out here, pretty? Why don'tcha come with us? Got us some rum and a warm fire."

Glitch was already walking forward to intervene. He was suddenly angry that they would even dare approach her. He told himself he needed to protect her, and he did. He wouldn't acknowledge that there was a thread of possessiveness involved.

"Don't drink much," Scraps didn't pause her swaying dance, her hips undulating from side to side, followed by her upper body, calling attention to her small breasts. "And I'm plenty warm, thank you."

"Looky there. She's a headcase. Whatcha do, bitch?" The leader of the group had the scornful look of superiority about him. His eyes seemed to reveal his enjoyment of others torment.

"I bet she could DO half a regiment?" A smaller youth laughed at his own poor joke.

Scraps spun to a stop, tilting her head to the side. "I won't drink, or rest by your fire. I won't be your joke or sport, either. But I will read your fortune in the palm of your hand." She stepped up to the first young man and took his hand.

His compatriots laughed and they jostled one another, good-naturedly, as the youth grabbed Scraps' wrist instead.

THAT was it! He'd seen Romani women dance like that about the campfires of clustered wagons. Outside of the sight of Gomi – non-Romani. There had been times when he'd been allowed to share their fires and songs; he'd even danced for their amusement when he had half a noggin'-full of brain.

"Okay, kids, party's over:. time to go home." Glitch spoke up as he stepped up to Scraps's side, and dislodged the young man's grip on the girl. "The lady's with me."

"Didn't look like she was with anyone a minute ago," the second man added his opinion, though it wasn't much of one.

"Looks are often deceiving. It's best not to count on them," Scraps smiled softly. "Not alone and not allowed. Not for you. Go to your drinks and fire and have a laugh in the morning."

She linked her arm with Glitch's and started to pull him away.

"I don't think so, Zippy. I think we wanna dance. Come on, darlin,' let Mr. Rude have a watch, eh?" The first speaker sounded pissed off.

Glitch's back stiffened and he unwound his arm from Scrap's as he spun on his heel. "Oh, believe me, kid, you do NOT wanna dance. And if I were you, I'd apologize to the lady and go home to sleep it off."

When he finished speaking his words were punctuated by the click of a revolver being cocked. Glitch could hear Jeb Cain to his left and judged him to be standing half way between the boathouse and them. He could picture him there with his pistol in his right hand and his left hand resting on his knife.

"The Blade has admirer's back, but doesn't stab. Would never stab there though. They would think they could overcome the blades. They'd be wrong," Scraps' voice was dreamy and yet serene. "Blood and entrails would ruin our shoes. But no one thinks they can outdo a bullet."

"Now there's a nice picture. Junior turning you into chum would be more satisfying than neat little holes in your heads. You might want to take that good advice, gentlemen. There's nothing here for you but trouble you really can't handle. Best you move along now."

Apparently, an obviously well-armed man stepping in and their target's eerie stair was a bit more than the toughs were prepared to take on. They left, muttering curses and insults as they went.

"I could have handled them." Glitch looked at Jeb. He wasn't sure why his friend's timely appearance annoyed him. True, he wanted to beat the tar out of three inebriated kids. Maybe just a bit to show off what he could do. Something deep inside suggested Jeb had stolen his moment.

"Sure you could," Jeb nodded, acknowledging Glitches prowess in a fight. "But it would have taken longer and got a lot of attention when they screamed and whined about broken bones and internal organ damage. My way was faster and let people around here sleep." Jeb smirked. "Let's go, you two."

Scraps was already walking ahead of them, talking to herself before she stopped and sat down on the edge of the ferry launch.

"Just wanted to dance, is all. It's in the blood, in the veins… No, not my blood, not these veins." She looked down at her arms, then up to Glitch and Jeb. "I want to dance and swing and soar. I want to laugh and be my own. I want to sigh and be someone else's. But what bits are my wants, my dreams? I'm glad he's stone. It's mean and cold, but so was he. I hope he falls over and breaks into pieces like he broke me." In the moonlight, her silver eyes almost seemed to glow and they shimmered with tears.

Something tightened in Glitch's chest. He crouched down before her. "It's gonna be all right, Scraps. Maybe it's _all_ you, pumpkin. Who says you can't do all of those things, huh? Maybe you just have to accept being an acrobat and a gypsy, and whatever else you are. The secret might not be how to stop being some of them, but to learn to be all of them. You don't have pieces missing, you're a… you're a quilt, with a beautiful pattern. The colorful parts are what make you special."

Scraps swiped at the tears, rubbing them from her cheeks. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me; that I can remember. Too bad that doesn't count for quite as much, as I have trouble remembering things."

They both stood up; Scraps took Glitch's hands and gave a little tug downward. She stretched to the tips of her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. She looked up at him with a warm smile; a smile that made her truly pretty.

Jeb coughed, not so discreetly. He was grinning at Glitch, making him suddenly feel like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And he hadn't done anything wrong. Even though there was a lingering tingle where Scraps' lips had touched his skin.

"Oh, and I think we should pay for the rooms and dinner with this," Scraps broke in, holding up a wallet.

"What's this?" Jeb took the leather and opened it to see notes of platinums and several coins.

"That guy was getting grabby, touched what wasn't his," Scraps shrugged, rubbing at her wrist. "I got grabby back. Makes payment for folly tangible."

Glitch tried to choke back the laugh. After all, picking pockets was very wrong; she could get into lots of trouble. But really, there was just something poetic about it. He let a bit of the chuckle out.

"We'll leave it at the tavern in the morning. Maybe it'll teach the kid a lesson. But I doubt it, " He shook his head as Jeb led the way back to the tavern.

Glitch wasn't sure what to do when he felt Scrap's small hand take his; it might offend her if he pulled away. Besides, it was easier to keep track of her if she was right there beside him. Better than a leash by far.


	9. Tilting at Windmills

Title: Learning to Live 9: Tilting at Windmills

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: "You are a menace." Wyatt shook his head, wondering how she survived on the streets as long as she had._

Facing Wyatt Cain, when they got back to the 'Drunken Monkey,' was interesting. He was pissed off at their disappearing act but only Jeb was really under his command. Glitch and Scraps were adults and their explanation of 'going dancing' didn't quite cut it, however the Tin Man didn't get anything else out of them.

In contrast, crossing the river the next morning went smoothly. Scraps sat in the middle of the ferry, refusing to go near the sides, and the horses needed constant reassurance because of the motion of the ferry on the water; but it was a bit anticlimactic after the washed-out bridge, to everyone's relief.

They crossed the farming lands—miles of only wheat fields. It was glaring sun and swaying wheat only occasionally broken by a farmhouse, barn and stables, or, to break the pace, three or four farmhouses in a cluster. Those were most likely branches of an extended family. Once they had to maneuver around a cow that refused to move.

At one point, Scraps - mindless of the sunburn she was developing - had taken to playing cats-cradle with some string. After a half hour or so, she forgot how to do the patterns and ended up binding her hands together. Glitch tried not to laugh at her predicament, until her struggle to get free caused her knees to spur her horse forward.

"Er… heeeelllppp!" she cried, unable to really hold on with her hands all tangled in the string.

Wyatt rode after her and tried to grab the reins of her mount when she gave a cry and toppled from the saddle. Glitch felt his heart in his throat.

The Tin Man, somehow, dropped back in time to catch her by the arm and pulled to a stop to lower her to the ground before she dropped to her bottom in the middle of the dirt road. Her hands still bound, her horse slowed up ahead, seeming to notice it had lost its rider.

"Are you all right?" Wyatt looked down at her as the others drew up.

She pouted and held up her hands, displaying her amazing mastery of string.

Jeb lept down and cut her free.

"I think I bit my tongue." Scraps spat some blood to the dirt.

"You are a menace," Wyatt shook his head, wondering how she'd survived on the streets as long as she had.

"I am a quilt," she responded before sticking her tongue out and trying to look down and see it, with little success.

"You're a what?" Wyatt looked completely lost, especially when Glitch and Jeb started to chuckle.

"She's unique," Glitch offered as a poor explanation.

"And we can all thank God for that," the elder Cain muttered. "Not sure the world could handle more than one of her."

"Being rude," DG poked his arm and glared.

"You ride with someone from here on out," He pointed down at Scraps, who had stopped trying to look at her tongue and looked up at him with her too-big silver eyes and reddening face.

"And she's gonna get sun poisoning, on top of it all," Cain groaned as he tugged down his hat.

"You're the only one without pink around the face and neck, buster. YOU have that hat." DG circled her horse in front of his. Sure enough, she had tinges of pink across her face.

He removed his hat at once and handed it to her. "Put it on right now."

DG looked at Scraps, who - due to her pale, freckled skin - was the worst off of them all at the moment.

"We'll take care of her. YOU. Hat, now." Cain pointed at DG.

Wyatt was certain to turn into a crispy critter without his hat. DG looked back at her husband and saw the futility of arguing. He might give in to her a lot, but not when it came to her health or safety. She pulled the fedora on. She gave him a sassy sidelong glance. "Save a horse…"

Look, he seemed sunburned now with those red ears and cheeks.

"Enough you," he half-glared however the small twitch of a smile he recovered from gave him away.

"Scraps can ride with me. We can trade off horses later, if we need to," Glitch held out his hand and managed to pull the girl up in front of him.

Jeb tugged off his scarf and motioned for Glitch to bring his horse closer. He reached over to drape the red cloth over Scraps' head, wrapping it around her nose, covering her face and neck, but for her eyes, like a desert dweller.

They collected Scrap's grazing horse and resumed their pace.

The windmills were visible for miles, only because they were the tallest things over the flat fields of wheat.

"My God, someone transplanted Kansas!" DG looked around her. "The windmills are a bit Dutch, but this is the kinda landscape I grew up with."

"You farmed wheat? I somehow thought the Other Side wouldn't be as... flat." Glitch had imagined it to be a bit more strange and new, exotic. Flat fields were boring.

"The place I grew up was, yeah. But there was as many diverse areas there as in the O.Z. Maybe more. I just never got to see most of 'em," DG sounded wistful. "I always wanted to travel. Be careful what you wish for."

As they rode, DG decided to regale them all with what she could remember of the story of Don Quixote.

The next windmill they passed, Scraps looked at it sideways. "Nope, I just can't see a giant in it. I guess I'm not as out of my head as all that. I do see a backwards fan, though."

The hills were visible from miles away, as well. They looked like mountains to DG and she said as much.

"They fall short of mountains by quite a bit," Jeb offered. "Although climbing on them doesn't feel any different. Especially hauling gear and wounded."

"So you and your group of rebels were up in those hills and never realized there was a secret weapons-trading site?" DG looked to Jeb.

"Lots of hills," he shrugged. "Besides, we were trying hard to remain hidden ourselves. I don't recall more than a few caves up there, not big enough for more than two people."

"Well-hidden caves," Scraps added, looking up from where she was braiding the mane of Glitch's horse. "You can't see them with your eyes without the secret. Uninvited guests only speak to ghosts after."

They reached the foot of the hills earlier than predicted and decided to follow along the base a ways, hoping for a sign of… something.

"That's it!" Scraps pointed to a windmill that looked much like every other they had passed. "There's one up there. When you looked out of the cave's mouth, you looked out at this one, always waving at that one. It's up there." She pointed up the sparsely-treed incline.

They all looked in the direction she was pointing. They saw nothing but a very steep hillside with trees and plants slowly breaking apart the rocky surface.

"Of course it would be in a place the horses can't get to safely. There's gentle slopes back there and up ahead," Glitch shook his head.

"If you wanted to keep a place secret, would you make it easy to reach?" Cain arched a brow at his friend.

"So, how did the buyers get the goods down?" Glitch looked up in the slowly-dying light.

"Ropes. Pulleys, likely. No sign of anything now; if it's up there at all," Wyatt squinted up, looking for signs of recent activity.

"Excuse me, but what am I here for if you won't believe me?" Scraps unwound Jeb's scarf looking quite content to sit before Glitch.

"We believe you. We'll climb up there in the morning," DG smiled winningly at the other woman. "None of us want to get caught up there in the dark."

They dismounted, seeming to mutually decide to camp here.

"Magic will hide it, science will bind it and traps will guard it. If only I could remember how we got in…" Scraps started looking up the incline, chewing at her thumbnail.

"That's what we're here for, doll," Glitch nudged her. "You're just supposed to guide us here."

She shook her head and automatically took his hand, seeking some sort of reassurance. "This is only a trading place. There has to be clues inside; something to jog my brain, any part of it. We have to find the dragon's lair to bring it all down, breathing fire and all."

Glitch looked up and seemed to swallow hard. "I really hope you're speaking metaphorically."

"Come on, kids. Set up camp first, cuddle by the fire later," Cain called over to them.


	10. Thinking and Thinking

Title: Learning to Live 10: Thinking and Thinking

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: God save us all, she's a morning person_.

Scraps walked silently around in the dark, just outside the camp, keeping her eyes away from the fire for the most part. The light blinded her to the night. She was on watch: she was given the job. Peace offering or not, she would do it well.

She would be hurting, if DG hadn't done something with the light and making most of the red on her skin go away; it was only pink now and felt just a little tight. Not anywhere near as tight as it had felt while riding with Glitch. And the fairies in her tummy had flown away after she got off the horse as well. Much better now.

It was only then that she realized she remembered everyone's names. The first day she had repeated each of them to herself multiple times, to get them all right. When she felt something slipping away she started the chant in her head once more. They didn't notice, aside from her teasing two nights ago. But then, none of them knew just how unusual that was. She took months and months to keep a name she wanted to remember; but these were stuck. DG, Wyatt, Jeb and Glitch. It was like they belonged in her head so her brain made room, nestled them in there and held them fast.

She knew she was meant to be in that place. The rooms with the first food she'd had in a while. She had to be there. She had to feel the hurting rip through her so the kind-eyed man of tin would take her home, so she could be here now. She belonged here. She was needed here. With DG, Wyatt, Jeb and Glitch. Although Jeb belonged with someone else, and yet another seemed to be missing. She was needed by Glitch most of all. He just didn't quite know it yet. She knew it, but didn't know specifics.

She felt her own belonging here was mixed with _that_ dream. She couldn't remember things, but sometimes she remembered that one dream; maybe because she had the dream many times? It was a silly dream, but it seemed important. She dreamt of a scarecrow in a cornfield. There were crows and peacocks and songbirds in the corn; not all **belonged** in the corn, but they were all around the scarecrow. Then there was a great wind. It was hard and unyielding, bending even the corn down, sending the birds scrambling. A patchwork quilt was ripped from a clothesline and flew on the wind, only to wrap around the scarecrow. The wind picked up, harder. The quilt started to fly away again, but got stuck; held fast by the scarecrow that wouldn't let it be carried off again.

It was a silly dream; stupid to remember it when so many things slipped through her mind, like water through fingers.

Something was coming. The bad man… the collector. She didn't remember his name because she didn't want to. If she didn't know his name anymore, she was taking some of his power away. It had to do with him. Everyone here, her friends: DG, Wyatt, Jeb and Glitch, were going to face bad things. Because _she_ would lead them there. Death was coming. It whispered on the wind. She wrapped her arms about herself. Maybe she should tell them to run. Run far away.

Oh look! A squirrel! It chittered along the ground and disappeared into the field.

Scraps hit her forehead with the heel of her hand, then traced the cool metal of her zipper. Focus. Think. Where was she? In the wheat field. Glitch, DG, Cain and Jeb. The names anchored her.

Scraps shivered and looked over to the fire, willing to be blinded for a moment. Glitch and Jeb had gone to their own tents. The Princess and the Tin Man sat with their sides pressed tight to one another, talking so quietly they couldn't be heard over the snap-pop of the fire or the songs of the insects looking for mates. _Did they know they were blinding? _Their head leaned in to one another, like they were trying to both be in the same exact place. The light in their eyes wasn't only from the fire. _Would anyone ever look at her with eyes that glowed? _

Scraps looked away, both warmed by the sight and feeling bad that she'd seen something that should be private. It wasn't like they were kissing, or doing any of the other things married people did. She could faintly remember snatches of being married, though she knew it wasn't hers; of feeling love and knowing she was loved in return. Love hadn't saved her, the one who was a part of Scraps now. She didn't know their names. That was wrong; she should at least be able to honor their names somehow.

She was so glad he was stone, the collector. He was evil, bad to the core; he withered what he touched. The collector of lives, who valued things and power, seeing the beauty in nothing.

So why did she feel he was still able to hurt them all?

She circled the camp, eyes and ears seeking any sign of the cold wind, the man of stone, or any danger that might hurt her friends. She only wished she knew how to fight.

By the time DG relieved her, Scraps was almost in tears. She couldn't explain it to the Princess, because she didn't know why herself. So she sought her nest of canvas and wool and the solace of dreams. She just hoped they were her own.

* * *

Come morning the first thing done after an oat porridge breakfast was to send out the package of letters. DG had memorized a spot on her mother's desk, left under a glass case so as it wouldn't be disturbed. She could magically send the packet there.

Cain had written an official sounding report, including a map she had drawn to show their current location and that of the suspected trading spot.

DG wrote a small, personal letter to her parents, another short missive to Raw and a longer, more detailed letter to her sister. Glitch had placed a letter to the Queen inside the pouch, and DG noticed Jeb slipping something into the pouch as well.

DG sent the pouch of communications off with a shimmering sparkle and they geared up to climb that damn steep incline.

Climbing the incline to the first ledge was not as hard as it had looked, for Scraps at least. She had been smart enough to bring a rope which she tied to the sturdiest of the trees clinging to the rocks with determined roots. The others used it to help them or steady them as they climbed. It wasn't a sheer rock face, but the angle was steep enough to be precarious.

While she waited for them to catch up, Scraps did a slow backflip while grinning madly. Whatever had bothered her last night was apparently forgotten. She had told them this place made her nervous but there was no sign of it as she bounded with energy and happiness at the new day.

"God save us all, she's a morning person. And should a human being be able to bend like that?" DG looked up to where Scraps was now standing on one leg. Her other, impossibly in the air almost perpendicular to her body, foot over her head. She moved smoothly to what DG could only think of as 'little thunderbolt pose' in yoga. Not something a person with normal joints should attempt. Ones feet should not ever touch the back of ones head.

Wyatt was behind her and she knew it was partly so he could catch her if she started to fall and partly so he could watch her ass. He'd never admit the latter, however. Nope, he was guarding the rear. Hers to be precise.

"And, no, I won't ask for lessons," the princess looked over her shoulder at her husband as he continued to climb.

"What? Did I say anything?" He looked at DG in surprise.

"No, you were thinking it. I could tell. My Wyatt-senses were tingling." Having reached the ledge, she held out her hand and made the pretense of helping her husband up.

"Your what was what?" He was truly confused now, and she thought it made him all the more adorable. He was gorgeous all the time, but a befuddled Wyatt was just… cute. And he'd have a cow if she ever told him that.

"It's around here somewhere," Scraps announced.

The ledge they were on was a good eight feet wide and stretched off in either direction.

"There's nothing here, kid," Wyatt apparently preferred stating the obvious, rather than trying to figure DG out. He wiped his hands on the thighs of his pants.

"It's here," Scraps insisted, stomping her maroon boot against the ledge. At least she was no longer being all… bendy.

"I doubt it would be obvious, Dad." Jeb and Glitch had reached the ledge as well.

DG became aware of a feeling - like cloth tickling her skin. No one else seemed to notice it. "Wait. There's something here."

Her eyes scanned the steeper slope above them. Nothing was visible. Oh… but why would a magician leave it visible? The gossamer feel slid over the front of her body.

"Hold on, guys. There's an illusion involved. I know there is," DG felt excited now. This magic stuff was still new and interesting; she might not be able to bend like a twisty straw, but she could outdo Samantha Stevens. And she didn't need the nose-twitch. Great, now she had that theme music stuck in her head.

The tickling cloth feeling went away when she moved about five feet to the left. She moved back and, after pacing, it seemed to only be in the one area. She held her hand out.

"Right here," she frowned. Now, how to undo it?

Okay then. If the cloth wanted to brush along her… She reached out and grasped at what she couldn't see, but could feel. She then gave a good pull.

It wasn't real cloth and the illusion didn't fall away so much as flicker out.

They stood before two large, metal doors with no sign of rust or tarnish. There were no handles or any obvious way to get in, but there was a box in the center of the line between the two doors. She'd say it was a lock, but there was no place for a key. Not even for a swipe card.

"Scraps, do you know what this is?" DG moved closer, but Glitch was already crouching in front of it.

"A box?" Scraps blinked at DG questioningly.

"I know it's a box. Is it a trap?" She looked at the girl.

"Ummm…" Scraps chewed on her lower lip. "Think, think, think." She beat her temple with the heel of her hand.

"Hey, that won't help. Trust me, I've tried it." Glitch looked up from his position to Scraps. "We'll figure it out if you can't remember."

Scraps's apparent earlier joy dissolved as she sat down and tucked her knees under her chin.

"It's a music box. That's it. It's a music box…. But it doesn't play, it listens." She cocked her head to the side, her eyes momentarily vacant. "How did I know that? I can't remember it. I can't see it in my head."

"You just know things," DG smiled at her.

"Sound-activated,." Glitch looked at it with a bit of admiration. "That's brilliant. But it can't be just any sound. Or it would already be open."

"Voice activated, maybe?" DG tried a guess. "Programmed to Dr. Pipt's voice."

"If that's the case, I'm gonna have to see if I can take this apart. I don't think any of us can do impressions." Glitch scratched his head. "Especially for a man we've never met."

* * *

**The Letter:**

_Princess Azkadellia,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. _

_So far the trip has been as boring as I had hoped. The most danger we faced was a case of sunburn and Ms. Scraps's run in with a particularly vicious length of string. The string was defeated with no permanent injury to anyone._

_We think we've found the first hidden weapons trading site. I'm sure my father has sent a full report and map. In the morning we'll try and get to the site and see what, if anything, it holds. I'm not really holding too much hope there will be a clue as to where Dr. Pipt's hidden lair is. But we really don't have any other options._

_Hope to return soon._

_I miss you. _(Scribbled out heavily)

_Respectfully,_

_Jeb Cain_


	11. Breaking and Entering 101

Title: Learning to Live 11: Breaking and Entering 101

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: "You are a genius!" DG hugged Glitch._

Glitch had produced a small, folded pouch of tools from an inside pocket of his coat.

"You carry tools?" Scraps had moved to stand right over his shoulder. Her breath fanned his ear.

"You did say he used science to guard his things. It seemed a good idea to come prepared." Glitch looked to see any sign of how the casing was attached to the mechanism. No screws, bolts or welds were visible. Huh, maybe he glued it on.

"Traps. He loved traps. They were playthings to amuse; that, I do remember. I had to crawl about to unspring them," she scratched at her head, along the zipper. "He kept making new ones just for fun. But what this one was…" Her eyes took on that glazed-look again, then she shook her head. "Gone. Pffft." She made a fluttering motion with her hand.

"Right, traps." Glich rocked back on his heels. How would he rig a trap for a metal box? What kind of metal?

He became aware of everyone watching him. "Do you mind?"

"Sheesh, touchy much." DG walked away and moved to talk to Wyatt and Jeb. They were still watching him but it was less obvious- unlike Scraps who was right at his shoulder still.

He turned his head and stared at her. She looked back with her huge, dimpled smile; she even had freckles on her lips. Her silver eyes had a darker, steely-color ringing them, with little shots of pale blue.

_Right, stop noticing her eyes and dimples. Concentrate._

Since hints weren't working and he just knew she'd pout or huff off if he asked her to move away - he went back to working on the box.

"I always hated thinking inside the box," Glitch looked over his shoulder at the others with his crooked smile.

"Think outside before inside. Seeing isn't believing," the redhead tried looking at the metal case from the side, her cheek pressing into the cold metal of the door. "No locks to tumble and click. Not much for me to do."

She folded herself into the lotus position beside Glitch, with her elbows on her knees.

"No... not a lock. Magic. Magic has to be involved."

There was a nasty little spell, designed to shoot a bolt of energy through anyone who was foolish enough to touch it. DG deflected it so that Glitch was able to get to the mechanisms inside.

Once the casing was removed things got a lot more interesting. Gears and tiny hydraulics inter-meshed. Glitch pulled another pouch from an inner pocket and withdrew the headband that held his magnifying loops. He clicked three consecutive loops down for the proper magnification. He was about to apply a tiny screwdriver when he froze.

"Oh, that's not good."

"What ain't good?" Cain stepped forward, unconsciously positioning himself between DG and the door.

"Um... little glass vile full of liquid balanced very precariously inside there. It's behind of some gears. It looks like any attempt to move or remove any component of this will break the very thin glass of the vial. Since the vial has no purpose to this doohickey, I'm gonna go with it being an unpleasant surprise if it gets broken," Glitch looked up at Cain from his crouch. The loops made his left eye appear huge.

Scraps held her finger up, her expression indicating an ah-ha moment. "Phenomenal destructive powers... itty bitty containing space," Scraps quickly frowned. "Big boom."

Cain, DG and Jeb took a step backwards.

"Hey, Jeb, you're good with big booms, right?" DG looked expectantly at the younger Cain.

He looked at her incredulously. "Setting them off, not stopping them."

"Wonderful. There's no way to get to that explosive without actually triggering it. Taking this thing apart is not an option," the inventor tilted his head. "There's a cylinder in here. Kinda like a music box... only not. Picks up vibrations, I think."

These are just like a music box with indentations instead of pings. I built enough of these as a kid." Glitch clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms. "High frequency pitch. I'm guessing a whistle."

"Your best guess is better than a lot of people's facts, Glitch. Do you know how to get it to open?" DG peeked from around Cain's side.

"Yes, I'm certain. Well, pretty sure. Hopefully," Glitch tried to at least look certain.

"Okay, everyone get clear of the door," Cain looked worried in return.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence there, tin man," Glitch rolled his eyes and Scraps giggled as if there wasn't an explosive device not a foot from her head. "Just like reading music, or remembering dance steps." Glitch tapped Scraps' knee then hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "Poppet, you might wanna get back there with the others."

She shook her head and placed her own hand on his knee. "You'll do it. You won't let me get blown to little bloody chunks."

Glitch gave a nervous titter. "Now there's confidence. Wish I had as much. Okay then..."

Glitch whistled the tune.

There was a clicking and whirring noise, and everyone tensed for an explosion that never came. The doors swung slowly outward with only a light squeak of the hinges.

"You are a genius!" DG hugged Glitch.

Scraps clapped her hands and stood, pressing another kiss to Glitch's cheek. "I know things."

By the light streaming in through the doors they could see the cave was not overly large. It was, perhaps, the size of a barn. There were long wooden tables and some chairs, all covered with a thick layer of dust and dirt, as well as some sort of mold; there was dampness in the air. One table held an incongruous tea set and there was a row of crates in the back.

"Not very big on the clues." Glitch announced.

"No housecleaning," Scraps walked in and ran her finger along one of the long tables, leaving a line in the grime on top. She seemed far away at the moment.

"Let's check out the crates; but don't touch anything. If he secured the door like that, there had to be a reason," Wyatt Cain moved to the back to visually inspect the crates.

"There's a door, there's a door, there's a door in the floor," Scraps sing-songed as she picked up the teapot. "Where there's more, where there's more, where there's more in the floor. In the room, in the room, with the magical door."

Everyone turned to look at her as she turned the teacups upside down and played a shell game with a pebble.

"What was that?" Jeb put his hand on hers, stopping the shuffle of cups.

"What?" Scraps looked from him to the cups she was playing with.

"That song-thing you were doing," he verbally nudged.

"What song thing?" She blinked at him.

"Right. She lost it. Let's try checking out the floor." Wyatt started to pace the artificially-flat ground.

He stopped and crouched down. "Those crates are a quarter inch off the floor. I don't see a skid under them." He examined the dust-covered ground and began to brush away the dirt with his hand.

"Jeb?" He pointed to the stone floor under the dirt.

"Stone's been scuffed. One arc, a wheel. It swings around." Jeb had learned tracking as a boy from one of the best.

"The crates are covering the door in the floor," DG looked tense.

Glitch looked from one to the other. "Still might be booby-trapped."

"Why would someone trap boobies?" Scraps was sitting on the table next to the tea set, her legs swinging. "Well, I suppose a corset could be considered a 'boobie trap.' Never did much for me." She looked down at her chest then used her hands to push up her small bosom, trying to attain some cleavage.

Glitch grinned and shook his head. The others had frozen for a moment in apparent shock, before chuckling.

"What?" Scraps crossed her arms.

"Nothing. Not that kind of booby-trap, Scraps," DG managed to regain her composure a little faster than the rest.

"Traps. Just traps," Glitch rapidly clarified. He had not just been looking at Scraps' chest or imagining her in a corset. No, he hadn't.

"Oh. That's different then," she nodded.

The moldy crates had several places where pulling or pushing them seemed perfect. And most likely deadly.

"Any way to hook something under that space and pull it open?" Glitch pondered aloud. "It's a very narrow space. You'd need something thin and strong, with enough of a hook to fit but hold."

DG brightened. "Like a hidden door in a bookcase. It might have a trigger to open it. There's no magic to it; not even the littlest tingle on my radar."

Glitch was tempted to ask what 'radar' was, but Wyatt spoke up first.

"A trigger could be anything," the Tin Man sighed.

The group once more looked at Scraps. She pointed to her zipper and gave them all a glare. "I'd tell you if I could get to it, but it's out of reach in the dark. Don't like remembering here." She shivered.

"If I were to make a hidden door in a place this bare… the trigger would be inconvenient to find by others, but in easy reach for me to use it,." Glitch considered the pile of crates, tapping a finger to his lips.

"Jeb… your knives. Do you think you can slide one under that opening all around the front?" Glitch looked to the youngest Cain.

"That depends. Will it kill us all, or just me?" Jeb drawled.

"The right way isn't trapped, only the wrong way." Scraps swung her lags.

"I thought you couldn't remember," Jeb looked at her, askance.

"In general. Not specifically. He didn't want to get caught in his own net. He liked to see others dangle, not to hang there himself," Scraps's brow furrowed.

"But is digging around under there with my knife the right way or the wrong way?" Jeb arched a brow.

Scraps shrugged. "Don't remember."

"Thanks. That was really helpful," Jeb rolled his eyes.

"You're welcome," Scraps responded earnestly.

"Here, give me the knife, I'll do it," Glitch held out his hand.

"I'll do it. You aren't touching my knife. You'll get science germs on it or something." Jeb laid down on the floor and pressed his face into the dirt, trying to see underneath, but he couldn't. He began running his blade under the opening. At the halfway point, he felt his knife snag something and there was an audible click. He pulled the blade free and rolled to his feet with practiced speed.

There were no lightning bolts or explosions; only the faint, un-nerving sound of old gears turning.

The crates swung out from one corner to reveal a stairway going down.

Glitch noticed Wyatt pause and swallow, glancing into the dark and back to the open doors, full of sunlight.

"Down to the underground, you'll find someone true." Scraps jumped off the table and almost skipped down the stairs and into the dark.

_A/N: I personally envisioned the tune whistled as the 'if I only had a brain' refrain from the Garland movie. ::smirk::_


	12. Traps and Scraps

Title: Learning to Live 12: Traps and Scraps

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: "What do we do?" Jeb's father's question was a demanding shout._

The smell of dirt and mold was stronger as they descended, even though there was a lot of molding wood above. Air circulation was not as prevalent down here and the air was stale.

Jeb pretended not to notice the tension in his father. Two weeks in an iron suit had nearly driven Jeb insane. He couldn't imagine years. If this was Wyatt Cain's only problem resulting from it, it was a miracle. If his father wanted to remain stoic, Jeb wasn't going to do anything to embarrass him.

DG did some magic and a little light, about as bright as a candle, flickered above her upraised hand. Jeb was very glad for the light. One of them was bound to fall on the stairs as they descended blind into the bowels of God knew what.

At the bottom of the stairway was a space and a lantern on the wall. The light above DG's hand seemed to jump into the lantern. There was another now visible a few feet away. DG waved her hand and lit up six lanterns spread evenly about the roombathing the area in a soft glow. This area was about half the size of the cave above. It was roughly hewn from the rock and obviously not a natural cavity. Jeb could see the scoring on the walls of the tools that had formed this place. Water seeped down the walls at random and there were white, fuzzy spots in the corners. The ceiling was covered with cogs and gears, rusting in places, and ropes. There was a system of weights on the ropes along one wall, and in the corner near the stairs was a heavy pole fitted through a gear. The mechanism to work the swinging crates, no doubt.

Glitch looked overhead at the mechanism and put his hands on his hips. "Hmm, something seems off."

Next to the pole was a hoe. Huh? Then it struck Jeb. It could fit under the crates without lying down or bending over and do a little sweep in the right spot.

In the center of the room stood a stone rectangle on a slightly raised dais. It looked like an empty doorway or a frame for something now missing.

Scraps was circling the room near the walls, muttering to herself. She seemed to be trying to remember. Jeb would no more reveal he often felt sorry for her, any more than he would admit his father was looking pale, and his jaw was so tight he was likely in danger of cracking a tooth.

DG circled the dais in the opposite direction of Scraps' s pacing. "Well, at least it doesn't have black curtains and I don't see the skeleton of Sirius Black."

Jeb frowned. "You've seen something like this before? You expected a body?"

"Not really," DG didn't seem inclined to elaborate.

"Other Side sarcasm. You get used to it, even if you never understand it." His father explained, staying close to the staircase, where fresh air was coming down and starting to lift the smell.

"Well we went through the door in the floor. This has to be the magic door." DG gestured to the stone frame. It was covered in elaborate carvings of geometrical shapes.

DG reached out her hand and held it about an inch from the stone. "It feels like it's just one spell over the whole thing. No other textures. Now if we can just activate it."

"If it's a door, what's on the other side? Opening it might not be the best idea." His father spoke up.

"We shove that thing through first." DG pointed to the hoe.

"And a door works both ways. What if something's just waiting to come out?" Cain elaborated.

Jeb winced. Great, just remind the princess of opening passages she shouldn't.

"Then you're right here to do what you do best. Shoot it," She moved to stand about four feet in front of the dais, in front of the stone 'doorway'. Closing her eyes a small line formed between her eyebrows.

Jeb watched his father draw his gun and hold it at the ready. He followed suit and crossed drew his knives, twirling the blades once before settling them into his grip. Scraps had stopped her circling and drew up beside Glitch to watch.

The doorway seemed to glow for a moment around all the geometrical shapes. Then a shimmering light filled the door, however it faded to collect into a bright blue light in a second.

Jeb noticed his father's eyes go wide as he reached out and yanked DG towards him.

The bolt shot out to where DG had stood at the same instant. Not quite fast enough, the light struck just along the outer side of her upper arm. She cried out in pain.

Then the bolt hit the wall and ricocheted bouncing back toward the place where Glitch and Scraps stood.

"Down!" Jeb barked as he hit the floor himself.

The light bounced wildly about the room at about chest height zinging and zapping as it went.

Jeb looked to the side to see his father practically laying atop DG, shielding her. Looking over to the others he noticed both Glitch and Scraps were on the ground. Glitch was on his back, his legs bent indicating a fall rather than a drop. His eyes were closed and Scraps was shaking him by the arm.

After about a minute the light bolt weakened and faded out.

"DG!" Wyatt's voice filled the chamber. Jeb's attention shot to his father and step-mother.

His father had sat up and pulled DG half into his lap. She was unconscious and starting to twitch, then convulse. The Tin Man seemed to know better than to try to stop or hold her body against the sudden thrashing, although he'd bear some bruising for it.

Jeb had only seen such naked fear on his father's face once before. Seconds before the iron suit was shoved closed on him and he must have realized he was really helpless to save Jeb and his mother.

His eyes darted to see how the others were. Glitch was twitching, not thrashing in full blown convulsions. Scraps had pulled his head into her lap and she had tears running down her face.

"No. No, no. Not allowed to burn out and fade away. Daresn't," Scraps sniffled. "Brushed his back and fell like a stone." She looked up at Jeb, then to his father. "It's for a magic user. Only magic would activate it. It's attacking the magic in them. If it hit full on, poof, it would burn them out in one surge. It only brushed them. But it's attacking, and their magic is fighting back."

Jeb noticed Scraps was speaking clearly, and she appeared focused. Her gaze was sharp. Wait a minute…

"Glitch doesn't have magic." Jeb blurted, unthinking.

Scraps looked at him like HIS brain had been tampered with. "He's a technomancer. Most of his toys and gadgets have magic to them. His magic is small, but bound to mechanical things. Only other technomancers and alchemists can reproduce his creations."

Clear, concise speech, full of intelligence and awareness.

"What do we do?" Jeb's father's question was a demanding shout. He noticed his father's desperate eyes were also on Scraps.

"Love's first kiss will wake sleeping beauty." It was fading, whatever had gripped her in clarity. "We have no magic and can draw it out of them, but not through skin. A cut, pressed to a cut, pulled by force of will from one to the other. But mouth to mouth is easier. It will hurt. It can't attack magic not there, but it will attack nerve impulses, causing pain. Swallow pain and hold it, will it to you and burn for them. They will be free and we will pay the toll."

No, it was still there. She was focused.

Jeb noticed his father didn't hesitate as he pressed his mouth to DG's in a fierce kiss, holding on against her convulsions. A blue light shimmered around DG and seemed to flow from her to surround his father, then sink into Wyatt. The kiss ended as DG went slack and utterly still and Wyatt Cain pulled up and back, his eyes wide as he arched backward, his body rigid and his fists balled, white knuckled. His teeth were clenched to bite back a scream.

Jeb glanced to Scraps and Glitch to see Scraps covering Glitch's mouth with her own, and there was a similar flow of blue light as Glitch ceased to twitch and Scraps shot back and screamed in agony, then curled into herself and began to sob between pitiful moans.

Jeb didn't know what to do. He was completely at a loss. Field medicine would not help this, and there was nothing to fight, nothing to kill. He felt helpless and useless.

DG's eyes fluttered open.

"What the hell was that?" Her voice was rough and tight. She noticed her husband starting to slump forward over her. "Wyatt!"

This Jeb could help with. He hurried to catch his father and help lower him to the ground. He was not twitching or convulsing. Apparently he had just passed out.

A quick look saw Glitch sitting up and noticing Scraps, who was no longer weeping or moaning as she lay in the fetal position.

"What the… Scraps?" Glitch looked to Jeb and at DG, scrambling to check Wyatt's pulse, as well as her relief when she found it under her fingertips.

Glitch checked over Scraps in turn. She was visably breathing. Glitch was visably distressed as he pushed her hair away from her face.

Jeb tried to explain what had happened as DG and Glitch held the ones who had willingly suffered to save them.


	13. The Price We Pay

Title: Learning to Live 13: The Price We Pay

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: _

The first thing Wyatt Cain was aware of was the pain. Everything hurt. It wasn't the concentrated pain of a gunshot wound or spotty pain of a beating or fight; every last bit of him hurt. His teeth hurt; his eyelids hurt; hell, his **toes** hurt. His right side was worse than his left, as something ran over his skin, like sandpaper grating over a burn. His mind suddenly recalled why he hurt and he realized the pain wasn't so bad. It wasn't anywhere near the agony that had washed over him before the darkness took him. He literally felt himself burning alive; excruciating torture, searing every nerve ending, cutting past skin into muscle, into his organs and searing bone. It had followed the tingling, indicating the spell was leaving DG and entering him as he willed it to, welcomed it.

DG! He opened his eyes to find himself looking at the ceiling of the cave. No gears. Somehow, they'd managed to get him up the stairs. He was lying just inside the wooden doors, close to fresh air and sunshine, but under the cover of the cave. What was running over his skin was the breeze from outside. He lay partially propped against a saddle.

"Wyatt?" DG's voice was music to his ears. She spoke softly and there was pain, concern and relief in her voice.

"You're looking good, darlin'." And she did; she was kneeling beside him, obviously afraid to touch him. She was awake and moving, thank God.

"How do you feel?" Her voice was still soft, child-like in tone.

"Like someone ripped off my skin and took a blowtorch to my insides." He attempted to offer her a kind of smile, but it hurt to move his face.

Tears flowed from her wide, blue eyes. "I'm so sorry. Jeb told us what happened. You shouldn't have done that. *I* made the mistake."

"I'll live. As I understand it, you wouldn't. It was attacking your magic, DG. You were seizing and your skin was so hot, burning up. You have a whole lot of magic and it would've killed you. You really think I'd let that happen?" He managed to lift his arm for his hand to cup her cheek. It burned where his palm touched her warmth and he gritted his teeth against it. She leaned into his palm, reaching up to hold his hand against her.

There was a tingle, not pain, and the hurt faded from his hand. She was doing something, and he could see the pain on HER face.

He pulled his hand back. "Stop it. It's hurting you."

"It hurts to do magic. Glitch said that'll fade after a day or two." She looked away. "I screwed up again. I triggered a trap. And most of us paid for it."

It broke his heart to see her do this to herself, again. She always seemed to take the blame for situations beyond her control. "Look, no one foresaw that. You think we would've let you do it if we thought it was a trap? Do you think *I* would have? It isn't anyone's fault but that sick bastard, Pipt. At any point, any one of us could have triggered a trap. You just got to be the lucky one today."

"You said something might come out," She pointed out, her eyes full of misery.

"I was thinking along the lines of something that could be fought or shot," he admitted.

"We aren't getting any further today, and possibly tomorrow." She was changing the subject to keep from arguing.

She sat down instead of knelt, and he noticed she was moving stiffly. He might be hurting and then some, but he wasn't blind.

"You're hurt, too."

"She'd never admit it to you, but the seizing and convulsions made her muscles ache. The attack on her magic gave her a hell of a headache," Jeb stepped into view; he perfectly fine despite the death glare DG was giving him. He held a tin cup out to Wyatt. "Drink this. White willow bark and feverfew tea. It'll help with the pain. DG's dose should be kicking in soon."

The Tin Man took the hot cup, fighting against the pain of movement and contact - he was already getting a bit used to it - and he reminded himself, once more, of both the former agony and how worth it each bit of pain was. He drank down the bitter brew.

"How's Scraps?" Cain thought to ask.

He'd felt suspicious of her for a moment. She had been quick–thinking and much more coherent, during the emergency. He'd learned over the last few days that she had her moments of clarity, but not like that. However, she subjected herself to the exact same pain to save Glitch; that eased his suspicions quite a bit, but didn't eliminate them.

"She's still out cold." Jeb nodded his head and Wyatt looked to where he indicated. Glitch was sitting next to her, dribbling liquid into her mouth, most likely the tea, then stroking her throat to stimulate a swallowing response.

"He seemed shocked that she'd do what she did. Once we got back up here with the camp gear, he wouldn't leave her side," Jeb explained.

DG leaned in, already moving a bit easier than moments before. "It never occurred to me that he had magic. I knew his inventions used magic to a degree, but it never really clicked how."

"Technomancers tend to stay in the background. Few of them have any great power, just enough to work instinctively with what they do." Wyatt shot his son a look. He should know this. "Anyone who can make a machine that depends on or uses magic has to have some of their own; their magic works with machines. They can't do spells like you, DG. They also, rarely have your kind of power."

"This is so weird to me. Even after all this time," DG shook her head.

Wyatt felt his eyelids growing heavy, but the pain seemed to be easing.

"Go to sleep, Dad. We're pretty protected up here, and I took the horses to the nearest farm, so the only thing we have to worry about right now is you and Scraps recovering."

For some reason, that seemed very appealing advice.

* * *

Scraps's whole world was pain. She'd known pain before; she remembered some of it. She was also aware she had forgotten a great deal. Maybe she could choose to forget some things, while long repetition to remember other things seemed to work. Remembering pain was not a good thing. Neither was feeling it all over. She didn't know if she had ever hurt like this before and she didn't regret forgetting if she had.

"Hey, you're awake." She knew that voice. She knew she knew. But a name wasn't coming; or was swept away, in a world of hurt.

She opened her eyes to see a concerned man looking down at her. Oh. Glitch. That was who he was. His toffee colored eyes held such a myriad of emotions. Worry seemed the most immediate.

"Hurts," She tasted something bitter in her mouth as well. Something earthy.

"I gave you something that should help that a little." Glitch smiled sadly down at her.

She didn't move. Moving would be worse. She wanted to throw up. But if she did she'd have to at least roll over. So she fought it.

"Why'd you do it?" The question was soft and she looked up at him seeing sadness, worry and guilt.

"Do what?" Scraps's brow furrowed. Ow. That hurt.

"Take that spell out of me. Jeb said you knew what it would do to you. You had to know it wouldn't kill me, not enough magic in me for the attack to be fatal. So why?" He had kind eyes. Sad, kind eyes. Brown and soft and curious. Curiosity killed the cat. Satisfaction brought it back.

She struggled to remember what he was talking about. Her eyes glazed over as she struggled to find the memory. Oh! She remembered the pain; the agony, a thousand times worse than this. How she had screamed. There it was. The answer.

"Not killed you, but killed your magic. You wouldn't be able to make so many of your things anymore. Mind might work, but it would hurt your heart to not DO what you create. Too many scars there already; don't deserve it. You have too many presents to give yet."

She was crying from the hurt but not sobbing. Glitch wiped the tears away with his fingers as gently as he could.

"Don't deserve that kind of sacrifice," he seemed to believe that.

"You sacrificed for others. It was someone's turn to do for you. You're mine and I won't let bad things happen if it can be helped," Scraps's eyes fluttered shut.

"What? I'm yours? What does that…"

Scraps didn't hear the rest, as sleep took away the hurting.


	14. Dream a Little Dream of Me

Glitch sat, half listening to DG's recitation of a story from the Other Side, and half thinking things over. The thinking things over part was leading to more confusion.

In the morning, Scraps apparently hadn't remembered her declaration that Glitch was hers.

"Really? And are you?" She seemed both serious and curious, her big silver eyes making him uncomfortable.

He had no idea why a tiny part of him wanted to say yes. The way she looked at him, innocence and wonder and understanding, all at once? Her smile, bright and offered freely, despite everything she'd been through? The way she had taken to holding his hand for comfort or reassurance or… sometimes just to hold on to someone?

Next to him Scraps sat up, awake, but still feeling sore. She assured them it wasn't as bad as yesterday. DG's tale was to distract the other woman from the pain. She was recovering fairly rapidly. Mostly because Glitch's magic wasn't very strong, so the 'poison' that had transferred wasn't attacking at full strength.

Cain wasn't as lucky. This morning he had claimed he was much better. He even got up from his makeshift pallet. He managed to go outside, take care of business and return straight-backed and blank-faced. He then announced he may just need to lay down a while. Another dose of Jeb's pain killer had him out cold.

DG wove her tale doing voices and all. "The Captain looked to his first mate and their guns were pointed at the crowd. 'Cut her down.' He ordered the people. The leader spoke up… 'That girl is a witch.'" Scraps was absolutely captivated by the story, clutching at her blanket. " The Captain looked right at him and aimed his gun at the leader. 'Yeah, but she's our witch. So cut her the hell down.'"

He hoped Scraps be able to remember the story, and the three others of a group of travelers DG wove for her, tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, Scraps seemed to be getting better at recalling things—only good things though. Memories not blocked in part by pain and fear. Maybe, in her case, her memory problems were a coping mechanism that bled over to anything she was uncomfortable or confused about. It didn't make the problems with her memory any less real, if that were the case. However, it might bode well for any future recovery. That could mean it wasn't a physical problem with her brain but there was no way to really test that hypothesis out here.

But there was no way of telling out here.

That night they decided on one more look at the underground room. It couldn't have been built just as a trap and traps tended to guard something. If everyone was up to it, they'd go down again in the morning. By evening Cain was moving around with only a little pain. Scraps insisted her zipper hurt, but the rest of her was just itchy.

He felt guilty that she had been through this for him. Jeb said she hadn't hesitated any more than Cain had; she was much more brave than they realized.

Glitch had set his blanket next to Scraps. The least he could do was take care of her when she was in pain on his behalf. She was doing so much better tonight, but it was silly to move his blanket, so he settled in for the night close enough to reach out and touch Scraps.

He noticed Cain was doing well enough to have DG snuggled into his side.

Jeb sat in the doorway, sharpening his knives. He saw Glitch looking about as he inclined his head to indicate DG and Wyatt, then rolled his eyes dramatically. Glitch didn't stifle his giggle.

* * *

She was looking down a square tunnel in solid rock.

"Get moving, girl. Mr. Greer wishes to have his play time." She saw the collector, his grey hair and sharp suit, all grandfatherly and round-faced. He terrified her.

Behind him, Mr. Greer gave her an oily smile. He liked knives. He liked hurting people. Carving and cutting and listening to screams. The collector called him a charming pet psychopath, whatever that meant. To her it meant Mr. Greer took care of anyone his employer told him to and that included anyone who survived the traps.

Lump was behind Mr. Greer. Huge, rough-featured, blank-eyed. Lump was made of gears and wheels under clay, a magic powder and spells made him a 'tick-tock golum'. She just knew he was emotionless, did anything the collector said, and was dumb as a post.

She looked into the crawlspace again and climbed in, shuffling forward on her hands and knees. It would be hard for an adult man to do this. A tight fit. But a skinny eleven annual old girl could do just fine.

She kept praying there were no rats. She hated rats. Their beady eyes, their sharp, gnashing teeth, the scamper of their feet. Mr. Greer had a rat's features. The collector locked her in her cubby with a dozen rats if she had really done something bad. No light, just the scrabble of their feet.

She found the control for the trap. A metal wheel she had to turn to winch up the door. It was hard work. The door was heavy, and even with the pulleys she couldn't see, her arms shook by the time she had finished and reset the trap. It was waiting now, for another mouse.

* * *

She handed the Collector the tools he needed as he built a gun that would shoot fire. Flames to burn people. She hated it, but she was good at knowing exactly what he'd need before he needed it, so he could work.

Micha winked at her as he took apart and reassembled the last deadly toy of the Collector's. Of all of them, Micha was the one she liked. He knew death's toys back and forward; he could use any of them. He knew if a trigger had too soft a pull or was too tight. He tested everything with a fierce joy.

He brought her candles and flint and steel to hide in her room, so she could keep the rats away. He'd also brought her a little cloth doll she hid under her nest of blankets. He spoke up when the Collector wanted to punish her when she messed up, but the Collector always offered to make him not mind at all, if it would disrupt things. Micha never protested too much, but he brought clean rags in hot water when she'd been whipped. He told her about a little sister he had once.

* * *

She walked, without a sound, in the room of treasures. All the Collector's favorite things were there. The shoes, the painting, the bed; the book that was a fake, but magic all the same; the Three crystal balls that could trap you in your dreams; the wand of the White Witch, Glinda. She dare not touch any of them. For some reason, she kept coming here, wanting to smash these things; burn them. They were more important than people to him, and had been bought with blood.

"Molly girl, where the hell are you?" His voice echoed from the hall behind her.

"I'm getting dinner, sir. Be right out," she called back before scampering away to the kitchens where she had been cooking.

* * *

"Molly! You vapid-minded little bitch. I should let Mr. Greer have you. You could have killed us all. You're useless. What am I going to do with you?" The Collector gave her a smile that made her sick. "Oh, I know. I'll make you perfect."

* * *

Glitch's eyes shot open. His heart was still pounding in his chest and the cold terror took a moment to fade.

Beside him, on her own blanket, Scraps moaned pitifully, and her sleep looked anything but peaceful. At some point in the night, she had reached out and taken hold of Glitch's hand, which she was squeezing tightly.

_What had just happened? _

"It's all right, Molly," He half-whispered in the dark.

"Is now." She smiled then was off to sleep again.

Glitch looked at their joined hands in a mix of fear and wonder.


	15. Down the Rabbit hole

Title: Learning to Live 15: Off to Wonderland

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: Glowing is special. Not many people do it_

Scraps had set about making breakfast and brewing coffee as the first sun peered over the horizon - before anyone else was up. Something important had happened last night, but all the rubbing at her zipper in the world wasn't helping her remember what. It made her brain itch from all the trying so she just stopped.

"What time is it?" Wyatt was the first to wake and spoke softly to keep from waking the others. He managed to disentangle himself from his wife and walk over to the fire.

"About an inch-above–the-horizon o'clock." Scraps grinned and added more cinnamon to the oat porridge.

"Ah." Wyatt raised then opened and closed his gun hand. He seemed to be testing how sore he might remain.

"All better?" Scraps asked, earnest in her inquiry. "I'm just fine this morning. Stretched and tumbled outside before first dawn."

"Good," Wyatt looked down over the wheat fields and windmills for a moment. "You reacted real fast the other day. You saved DG's life. I thank you for that."

"Welcome," She stirred the porridge to make sure the bottom didn't burn as it thickened.

"You seemed pretty together during the emergency," he was giving her a sidelong glance.

"Melting pot," Scraps circled her hand in the air moving out from her temple. "Heat it up and stuff floats to the top. Cool it down and it sinks back in to blend. Roiling, boiling mix with little bubbles that pop on the surface."

He nodded, seeming to understand. She held out a cup of coffee. She couldn't remember how he liked it, so he'd have to fix the rest himself. He took it with a small smile and a nod.

"You glow," Scraps spoke up, feeling the urge to tell him what she had seen the other night.

"Huh?" He was puzzled again.

"You and the Princess. You glow together. Makes me feel warm inside. You burn when you look into each other's eyes," Scraps moved the pot away from the glowing embers to a spot just far enough away to stay warm but not burn.

She looked up to see that Wyatt was blushing and looking back out over the fields of gold.

"Don't be embarrassed by it. Glowing is special. Not many people do it. All passion and love wrapped up in a bow. Be proud you have that. It's happiness," the redhead sat back on her heels.

He turned to regard her carefully. "Do you see a real glow? I mean in the literal sense."

"Uh-huh," She pointed at him. "You're all blue and green and pink around the edges right now. You were all muddied yesterday."

Wyatt sat down next to Scraps. "You see colors?"

"Just a bit. A shimmering around the outside. They dance," Scraps shrugged. "Don't you?"

"No, Scraps, I don't. My Grandmam did. Do you see them all the time?" He was leaning towards her with interest and memory.

"Only when I try. Or when they're really strong. You and DG glow deep red. That's the best." Scraps didn't take any coffee, although she looked longingly at it. Her friends said she vibrated and started jabbering fast about anything. DG said she couldn't have any more if she, DG, were to remain sane.

She noticed a small smile touching Wyatt's lips. He seemed to be making some sort of judgment behind his eyes, and nodded just slightly, more to himself than anything.

Just then, Glitch woke up with a huge yawn. "Hey. Do I smell breakfast?"

A stone got chucked at him from Jeb's direction. "You were supposed to let them talk privately as long as they needed. You're supposed to be smart again."

Scraps smirked. Those with the name Cain were sneaky.

* * *

DG watched as Jeb collected the length of rope up the incline and slung it over his shoulder and across his chest. No need to encourage kids to climb up here.

Letters and a report were sent off before they descended once more into the room below. Maybe it was what had happened the other day, but it seemed the walls were pressing in even tighter this time. The air was thick and heavy and stole the moisture from Wyatt's mouth. He could actually feel it pressing in.

The lanterns were lit the old fashioned way: with matches. DG was NOT doing any more active magic down here. She'd agreed only because she knew how worried he was, and he was aware of that. It didn't matter why she agreed, just that she did.

Active, she had specified. "I'm still doing passive. Feeling things out."

She circled that damned stone doorway again and shook her head. "It only had one spell on it. Now, there's nothing. The trap was the spell. This isn't a transporter."

"Maybe that little rhyme was meant to lead people in here to get killed," Cain suggested.

"People don't go through this much trouble without there being something to protect." Glitch was looking up at the roof, at the gears and machinations that swung the crate door out once more.

To Cain they seemed to have dropped a good five inches since the last time they were down here. In fact, the whole room seemed smaller. And warmer. Definitely warmer.

"That's not right," Glitch announced as he examined the contraption above them.

Now Scraps was looking up, and slowly spinning as if she were each of the wheels, changing direction as they would and she moved under them.

"Jeb, how heavy would you say those crates were up there?" Glitch scratched at his head, as if unsure of his own calculations.

"Maybe fifty pounds. Add some if there are traps in there, there'd have to be, ya know, devices and stuff," the younger Cain looked up, as if trying to see what Glitch did.

"So, it could be moved by hand on that little wheel, really. Why build this? It's overkill."

Scraps stopped turning. "He liked to build things. He liked cogs and wheels and shiny brass…" Her face went blank and she got that far-away look again. Then the switch was thrown and she was back, shrugging. "Gone now."

"Oh, this would do the job, but… there's too much counterweight." He seemed to visually follow where the weights on the ropes led.

"This one." He reached out and pulled the weight on the far end.

There was a deep rumble and the sound of stone scraping against stone. Wyatt heard his heart pounding in his ears as he was already moving to just get DG and get out before they were all crushed. But nothing fell.

Part of one of the walls moved inward then disappeared. A flickering light started to glow in the circle the stone had moved to reveal. It shimmered, rippling like sunlight on a lake, but there was no water - no substance - but inky blackness beyond the circle.

"That's it," Scraps stepped forward. Her eyes huge, her voice soft. "The rabbit hole to perdition."

"The doorway in the middle of the room was so very obvious. It was designed as the trap. The real magic door was hidden." Glitch was grinning. His re-established brain had helped once more.

"That's the way. The way back." Scraps stepped right in front of the portal, or whatever it was.

"You'd better get back from there, kid," Wyatt didn't like it. The bolt of energy was still fresh on his mind and the tightening in his chest was starting to become distracting.

"No. This is the way. To the sand castle. To the place full of death and wonders. This is the door." Scraps turned to look at everyone. Then she leapt through the shimmering darkness.

"SCRAPS!" Glitch stared wide-eyed at the rippling magic.

"Okay. No one move. We have no idea what's on the other side." Wyatt already had his gun out.

"Scraps is on the other side!" Glitch glared.

Suddenly, a disembodied hand reached through the portal, crooking a finger and making a summoning motion. Both the hand and arm attached to it was covered with a multitude of freckles.

"Right. Going in," Glitch drew himself upright and stepped through the magic.

"Doesn't anyone listen to me?" Wyatt ground out.

"Yes dear, but then we do what we want anyway," DG grinned. "Otherwise you'd be bored."

"Well, they need someone to protect them," Jeb shrugged and drew his blades. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through.

"Come on. You know you aren't going to let them go ahead and get themselves killed without you being there to tell them 'I told you so.'" DG took his arm and half-dragged him through the icy gateway into what lay beyond.


	16. The Other Side of the Portal

Title: Learning to Live 16: The Other Side of the Portal

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary_: "Makes sense. Closest to the Winkie Dutchy. And who the hell came up with these names?"_

_For my original Betas: _erinm_4600, bets_cyn, and n_e_star

The first thing DG noted was Glitch and Jeb looking around themselves with amazement. In fact, Glitch was almost salivating.

The other side of the magic portal was a vast room. There were pillars and the ceiling was made in arches - way, way up there. In the center of the ceiling was a metal door. It made her think of the iris on _Stargate_. Damn, she missed TV.

All around them were machines. DG recognized them as travel machines; one large, metal sphere - with portholes and a large window in the front - was standing on three legs. Atop it was… a set of helicopter propellers. Or damn close enough. There was something that looked like a small submarine, as imagined by Jules Verne. Oh- oh! Her turn to drool now: there sat three motorcycles. Well, mostly motorcycles. They seemed to be a bit… Outer Zoned. There were two cars and a truck, as well, but the truck had wide tank treads instead of wheels.

And there were tanks. The armored, big-gunned assault vehicles DG had seen the Longcoats operating.

Glitch's fingers were actually twitching to take a look at some of the vehicles.

DG nudged his arm and, with a nod of her head, indicated Scraps moving toward a tunnel to the side. It looked big enough to accommodate most of the vehicles.

Glitch hurried to keep up with the small woman, which DG thought was terribly sweet. He was falling fast and it seemed Scraps was already there waiting, metaphorically.

Turning, DG checked on her husband. Wyatt was no longer showing that tightness and she didn't think there was any further cold sweat dampening his brow. The sheer size of this room made it appear airy. "Well, we don't want to be left behind," the princess started to follow after Glitch and Scraps.

Wyatt moved quickly to walk slightly ahead of DG while Jeb stayed a step behind and to the left. She knew they were taking protective positions. It would be irritating if it weren't for the fact that it seemed to be their nature.

"The air is different," It was Jeb who pointed this out as they all began to follow after Scraps and Glitch.

Wyatt nodded; apparently, he had noticed it also. DG took in a deep breath to try and determine any difference.

"It's dry. Really, dry." Now that she noticed it, it was hard not to.

Scraps and Glitch waited for them to catch up then Scraps turned right at a staircase heading upward. The tunnel continued on as far as any of them could see and the stairs were rather shallow.

"Every other one." Scraps looked back. "Step on the second, then the fourth. Skip up the stairs."

"Are you remembering?" It was Glitch that asked.

"Not pictures, or sounds or anything I can grasp and hold. Just know you have to skip every other step," Scraps shrugged and started upwards.

"Another trap. This guy was paranoid with a capitol 'P.'" DG made sure she watched what steps Scraps used.

"People who kill others for profit see enemies around every corner. That's because there usually are," Cain seemed to be doing even better on the stairs, although he was watching everyone's feet. There was light above.

They reached the top of the stairs, a long climb indeed, and found a hall that belonged in a palace. The cloistered archways were topped with ornate stonework. But it was the row of high, arched windows that offered a spectacular view which garnered the most attention.

"Is that a desert? But there are four deserts surrounding the O.Z." DG looked out at the miles of nothing but shifting sand.

"There is." Jeb moved forward and pressed a hand to the glass.

"The Palace of Death," Scraps turned her back to the view.

"The Deadly Desert," Glitch surmised. They thought she had meant the weapons and traps, but this added another layer to the others. The sand could kill with a paralytic agent.

"Makes sense. Closest to the Winkie Dutchy. And who the Hell came up with these names?" DG looked from Wyatt to Jeb. "Winkie? Deadly Desert?"

Both men shrugged. That bit of history was mostly lost in time.

* * *

At first, Scraps wasn't even aware that she was clinging to Glitch's hand so tightly. When she noticed, she let go with an apologetic look and he just smiled reassuringly at her. She didn't know why he was the one to make her feel safe when Wyatt and Jeb had guns and DG had magic, but he did.

They continued down the hall. There were quite a few windows along the way, as well as some open rooms. Some had dried-up fountains, others statuary; one was full of chairs and couches in a circle.

No one tried to enter any of the rooms.

Suddenly, Glitch stopped stone still. "No one move."

Scraps felt her heart leap into her throat. "What?"

"The tile I just stepped on sank just the smallest bit. If I shift weight, I'm fairly sure it will trigger something," Glitch looked more than a little worried.

Scraps bit her lip and willed herself to remember. Think… think.

"Triple S!" she shouted in triumph, a huge grin on her face that faded just as quickly. "The tile you're on and the eight around you will open up, dumping you about thirty feet down. Slots will open along the walls and poisonous snakes, spiders and scorpions will come tumbling out. 'The simplest things are often best,'" Scraps sighed. "At least I remembered." She looked down to see she was standing on the stone tile next to him.

"Do you remember how to reset it? Or stop it at all?" Jeb looked worried, but he was pulling the rope from its cross position on his shoulder.

"Uh... nope," Scraps shrugged while looking over her shoulder at the others.

Jeb made a knot at either end of the rope, creating a large loop at both ends. "All right, Glitch, I'm going to lasso you. Just make sure your arms are free and the rope is around your chest. You're next, Scraps."

Jeb swung the lasso to bring up momentum to get the loop open and then he let go. It landed right over Glitch's chest and upper arms. Very carefully, Glitch slid his arms free, making sure not to shift weight on his foot.

Jeb moved around Wyatt and DG so the rope crossed their backs. "We're gonna be the anchor. We'll keep them from dropping too far, then pull them up."

"I'm glad someone has the brain today," DG drawled.

"Well, mine's all accounted for," Glitch shot back. He looked down at his foot. "Maybe. Just kinda slowed with the threat of plummeting to my death, is all."

"And I have more than one brain. Yet here we all are." Scraps was quickly lassoed.

Jeb moved to the other side of DG, with the rope across his back as well. That should protect the small princess at least against the way this was going to cut into their sides.

Scraps looked at the set up and smiled. Jeb was very clever. Her tension eased away.

"Ready when you are, Glitch," Wyatt announced.

"Well, I'm not ready. There's still a possibility this won't work or that we drag the three of you with us." Glitch tried to look over his shoulder but couldn't for fear of shifting his weight.

"Neither of us weight that much. Physics." Scraps seemed excited. What the Hell?

"On the count of three," Glitch took a breath. "One…"

"Three!" Scraps pushed him to keep him from hesitating forever.

The floor beneath them opened up and both of them plummeted down.

Scraps couldn't stop a cry of "Wheeee!" as they fell.


	17. Worst Fears

Title: Learning to Live 17: Worst Fears

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: "_Whee_? You think dropping is fun?" Glitch looked at Scraps as if she were insane.

Originally Betad by the lovely erinm_4600, bets_cyn and transgenic_girl

Glitch and Scraps dropped like stones, then swung back to hit the side of the trap as the rope tightened around them. The impact was jarring and only their clothing kept the rope from cutting them.

"_Whee_? You think dropping is fun?" Glitch sounded out of breath, his words were quick. Glitch looked at Scraps as if she were insane.

"Gonna happen anyway, might as well enjoy it." She shrugged with a grin. "Swing from the rope, twirl for the crowd, dance in the air far from the ground. I was in a tent. I flew."

Glitch barely registered her musings as he made the mistake of looking down. He couldn't even SEE the bottom of the pit. I was a circular hole that faded into the darkness. His stomach lurched. He really hated heights. He'd had to put up with way to much of them in the last annual. If he never saw another fatal drop off he'd be happy as a clam. Whatever that meant. Did someone once ask clams if they were happy?

The world jerked slightly, like the others were starting to pull them up. Glitch noticed a slot cut into the wall just next to his head.

"Spiders, snakes and scorpions?" He looked at Scraps once more. This time she had the good sense to look scared when they heard clicking then something sliding down the space right between them. It was a long way for critters to fall.

Things poured out of the slot falling all the way down into the darkness hiding the bottom. Desiccated spiders and scorpions and bones- tiny little bones.

"Oh. No one around to feed them for years. Poor things. Bad way to go. That was just … mean " Scraps apparently felt genuinely sorry for the 'poor' creatures- trapped, no food or water, they must have turned on one another at some point. "My fault. I turned the Collector to stone and ran away without making them free as well." Her eyes sparkled with tears that didn't fall. "I didn't think and innocent creatures died badly."

Poor things? Innocent creatures? She felt bad to creepy crawlies and serpents? He was just as glad they were expired, thank you. There were better ways to die than being poisoned by natures less loveable creatures.

"Well this innocent creature is just as glad they're dead, cupcake," He knew his tone was a bit sharp, but he was dangling over a dark void with dried spider bits and snake bones on his shoulder and sleeve. People had limits after all.

They both turned to face the wall and grabbed onto the rope over their heads. They used their feet against the wall to try and help by walking up. It wouldn't make them weigh less, but it FELT like they were doing something.

Scraps glared at him. "Cruel. If I'd thought to let them go they wouldn't have fallen out, either. That's logic."

They were slowly pulled upwards. Their friends were moving backward, pulling the rope wrapped behind them. Once their arms and shoulders were past the edge of the pit each were able to haul themselves up. Once Glitch and Scraps were fully clear they began untying the ropes. Glitch was pretty sure he'd have bruises under his arms, but being alive to feel them was worth it.

"That's going to leave a mark." Scraps observed.

She then bounded over to Jeb, throwing herself at him and giving him a resounding kiss on the cheek. "You're brilliant!"

He turned an interesting shade of red. Must be genetic. DG laughed at the look on Jeb's face and Scraps just grinned.

Glitch managed to undo his end of the rope. "Brilliant. He's just great."

And what technological wonder had HE come up with lately? Anyone could slice and dice, it took STYLE to create. Why did she have to go and kiss Jeb?

"Saved our lives, don't be a grumpy puss." Scraps moved back and pressed a kiss to Glitch's cheek as well. "You're brilliant too. I'm sure you would have thought of the rope thing sometime before we plummeted to our deaths when you had to sneeze."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you." Glitch was pouting and he knew it.

"Of course it doesn't become me, I'm me all on my own. Unique. You said so." Scraps laughed. "That way, then." She pointed through another archway, moving away from the brightly lit windows.

"Where are we going?" DG was rubbing her back where the rope had cut in. Even with the men on either side it would likely bruise.

"I dunno. But it seems important, doesn't it?" Scraps shrugged.

"Someone tell me why we're following her again?" Cain asked.

"Beats me. It was you and Glitch who planned this little excursion down the rabbit hole," DG shot her husband a look.

"Rabbit hole?" Cain looked more lost than usual.

"Hole in the floor, hole in the wall, hole in the floor again." Scraps giggled and pointed at the open trap.

"Great. Just great," Jeb ran a hand over his face. "Can you focus, Scraps?"

"Weapons. Lots of mean, nasty weapons meant to kill many at once. A bomb to level a city. That's why we're here. To make sure no one ever finds or uses them." Scraps looked serious. "And people point out _my_ memory problems."

Glitch seemed to get over his pique and laughed at that. "She's got you there."

It seemed like they were wandering for hours, but it couldn't have been _that_ long. Everyone was careful not to touch anything. At last they came to a room full of small alcoves, almost like alters. Each was lit from an invisible light source above. The walls were carved with twisting vines and animals.

"Oh my God…. Those are Dorothy's silver slippers." Cain watched DG dart over to the alcove to stand before the pedestal.

"Get back from there." Cain barked, his heart leaping to his throat.

At the same time, across the room, Glitch was looking at a pedestal containing three crystal balls. "Are those what I think they are?"

Scraps nodded. "Don't look into them, silly! They'll trap you in your dreams."

Jeb stepped up next to DG even as Cain was moving towards her. "If there's a way to get to them safely…"

Just then a heavy metal door slammed down with a resounding clang, cutting Jeb and DG off from the rest of the room.

Scraps grabbed Glitch and pulled him hard against her inside the alcove as metal spikes came from the ceiling and walls crisscrossing the entrance to the small area. Scraps quick actions prevented Glitch from being speared.

All the alcoves had some trap activated. One had the darts spit across the room, another crackled with ozone and sparked, and another still had a saw blade shoot through at chest level.

The door and the spike cage did not retract.

"What happened? What triggered this?" Cain was in the middle of the hall and the only one not currently pinned down.

"I don't know. A brush of cloth, a puff of air? Mustn't touch his things. Bad things happen," Scraps took hold of the cold metal of the spike bars holding her and Glitch inside.

"Wyatt, the next alcove over, with the pit trap. There's a rose on the carving to the left… press it." Scraps instructed, her eyes looking sharp and focused again.

Cain felt his heart pounding against his ribs. He found the rose on one twisting vine and pressed in on the stonework. A panel opened at waist height to reveal a three-foot by three-foot opening to a tunnel inside.

This time it was Glitch who spoke. "You'll have to crawl in there about twenty feet. There's a series of levers and a wheel at the end. They are the resets for the traps."

Wyatt shot Glitch a look. "How the hell would you know that?" _Please let him be wrong, please…_

"Shared dream. I saw Scraps doing it as a child," Glitch answered as if were perfectly normal.

"Really? You shared my dreams?" Scraps was looking like an excited puppy at Glitch. Now was NOT the time.

"Is he right?" Wyatt barked.

"Yes. He's right. Straight back. You'll have to arm crawl. And Wyatt, hurry. That trap doesn't let air in. DG and Jeb will start to suffocate in about five minutes, maybe sooner if they panic." Scraps looked very worried.

"God damn, son of a bitch…" Wyatt removed his hat and coat, tossing them to the floor.

That tunnel was tight. And made of rock. Sandstone. It was dark back there.

DG and Jeb were gonna die.

He took a few deep breaths and then headed into the crawlspace. After his feet were inside, the air got thick. He was cutting off his own air supply: he knew it. His shoulders and forearms ached, his feet braced against the walls as he tried to hurry himself along. It was hot in here and he could feel the walls getting more and more narrow. He'd never fit. It was going to crush him. Stale air smelling of his own breath, little wiggle room... he had to focus on the goal, damnit.

It was taking too long. His sense of time might be distorted by the slow rate he was able to pull himself along, and his own feeling of suffocation, but that just meant DG and Jeb had less time still. He couldn't fail them.

He felt his breath coming in short, gasping pants. He was aware of shaking in his arms. He was going to die in here. Trapped forever. But DG and Jeb weren't going to die in that tiny room. He'd failed Adora and Jeb. He wasn't going to fail his son or his wife one more time. He'd manage to free them if it was the last thing he did. And it just might be.

His fingers brushed a lever. He felt blindly in front of him. Dead end, metal, three levers all in one direction and a hand wheel. DG and Jeb's salvation.

Stars danced in the blackness. Not enough air. He could feel the weight pressing down on him. Hew could hear himself gasping, trying to take in the oxygen that just was no longer there. No one said the walls in here would be moving in. They really were going to crush him.

He pushed the stiff, rusty levers upwards. They ground, un-oiled, and the screech of metal on metal filled his ears. Then the sound of something mechanical, gears on gears working behind the dead end. The stone around him vibrated with it. He took the metal wheel in hand and started turning it the only way it would move.

He didn't have much time now. He couldn't breathe at all. His hands were slick with sweat and the pressing walls didn't allow him much shoulder movement.

He heard something behind him. A scraping noise. A rat? But how would one get in behind him? No time for useless distractions. And that was what he was doing, trying not to think of the hot, fetid air his lungs were NOT taking in.

His guess was fairly close. It wasn't a rat, but a mouse behind him.


	18. No Air

Title: Learning to Live 18: No Air

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: "Hmm… fry or suffocate… which is more appealing?" He gave her a wry smirk.

DG banged her fist against the metal door. It only made the sound of her flesh slapping against the metal. Not even a satisfying metallic clang.

"What the hell just happened?" She looked to Jeb.

Her step-son blushed. "My foot just skimmed the pillar. I think that may have done it."

"Great!" The space was as big as a closet, a bit bigger than a coffin, but not much. She shuddered, but pushed it back, seeking distraction. Panic wouldn't help.

"Well, let's see if I can undo this." She closed her eyes and Jeb immediately grabbed her arm.

"Magic and traps with this guy, not the best idea," he reminded her.

"Fine. Let's see if we can lift it then." DG looked over the smooth expanse of metal. It seemed to sink a bit into the floor. "And not a thing to hold on to."

Jeb was already examining the rest of their limited space. "I don't see anything to indicate how to un-spring this trap."

"Wyatt and the others will figure it out," DG insisted. She wasn't gonna mention that it was getting a bit warm in here. She ran her hand along the seam of the door. No air movement. No vent. This could be trouble.

Still, she wasn't panicking because, on the other side of that door, Wyatt and Glitch were working on freeing them. And Scraps proved useful when the chips were down.

"How long before we run out of air?" Jeb wondered aloud.

Damn, she was hoping he missed that. But he was a Cain, he wouldn't miss much.

"I don't know, but it's best if we relax and breathe slow. Your dad and the others will be getting us out soon." DG was eyeing the silver slippers.

"Don't even think it. We don't know what other lovely traps are hooked to it," Jeb cut her train of thought off. "You seem to have quite a bit of faith in them."

Them, including his father.

"I have every faith in them. Glitch and Cain have never let me down before." DG was looking at Jeb with a bit of sadness. "You've never let me down either."

Jeb had been let down, through no fault of his father's. DG refused to ask, but she often wondered why Jeb and his mother never returned to release Wyatt. Jeb's use of an iron suit as a motivator in his rebel camp indicated he knew what had happened. He'd been in one for weeks himself. But she didn't know the circumstances of why Wyatt wasn't freed, and she didn't want to either bring up bad memories OR create a rift. It was one of those things she'd go to her grave not knowing.

And this cramped alcove was NOT going to be her grave.

"As a last resort, I reserve the right to try and get out with magic." DG was trying to make Jeb feel better, which was a distinctly odd feeling, as he was at least as brave and dangerous as his father. Maybe more dangerous with his Special Forces bit. Even if he had no clue what Special Forces was.

"Hmm… fry or suffocate… which is more appealing?" He gave her a wry smirk.

Talking used up oxygen, but it was also a distraction from thinking about losing oxygen.

"Tell me about your mother, Jeb." DG looked at the man across from her.

He look startled. "What?"

"Your father doesn't talk about her. I think he's worried I might think he's comparing us or something. Maybe it's just too hard, but I know he thinks about her." DG tilted her head. The big blue eyes were out. He could see why his father had such trouble resisting them.

"I… I don't know what to say. Mom was… quiet. She had a soft voice. I only heard her yell a handfull of times that I can recall." Jeb smiled softly, his eyes seeing something faraway. "I remember… she always supported father. Even if she disagreed," he sighed slightly. "Looking back, I think they kept me from hearing any disagreements. She was… practical. When we moved to grandpa's cabin permanently and out of the city, it was scary for me. Mom and father grew up in places like that, but I was a city kid. She made it seem like home, even with a bathtub outside. It was quirky when we used to visit for weekends but, I mean, who had a bathtub outside?"

His eyes refocused on the here and now. "Little did I know, I'd get used to washing up in freezing creeks." Jeb smirked a bit.

Jeb looked down at the floor as he considered his words. "Mom didn't like violence, she wasn't a fighter. She couldn't hurt anything above a chicken. Dad's job bothered her, though she never said as much. I don't think she liked seeing him strap on his gun; there was just something in her eyes. She was worried he'd be killed, and it got worse after he started working with the resistance." Jeb wore a soft smile as he remembered. "But she stepped up and helped run supplies, got families to safe houses. She was quiet, but brave."

DG started to build a better picture of Adora Cain.

* * *

Glitch gripped the cool, smooth bars the spikes had made as he looked at the hole Cain had crawled into.

"He's been in there a long time, hasn't he?" He looked to where Scraps was beside him.

She was… she had… her arm, shoulder and head was through the bars at about knee-level; the opening she was working with was maybe eight inches long and six inches wide. There was a wickedly tipped spike at the edge of that eight-inch expanse.

"Scraps?" He half-whispered, as if scaring her would cause her to injure herself.

"Squeezing. I'm very flexible." She pressed hard into the flat side of the opening she was worming through and there was an audible pop. The sound shuddered down his spine and brought a tightness across his own shoulders.

Glitch's eyes went wide as she placed the hand on the outside of the bars on the floor and pulled; she'd dislocated her shoulder. Her popped shoulder scraped down the point of the spike as it slid past, gaining a small hiss from both of them as it deeply sliced open flesh and blood began to flow.

"Don't do this, Scraps." Glitch was pleading and his stomach flipped at the sight of her blood. But wouldn't backing up just cause more damage? Logic wasn't meaning a damn thing while her blood ran down her arm and dripped onto the floor.

"Too late now. Kiss as my prize when I get us free."

She managed to pull her other arm and half her body through, but her dislocated shoulder was not going to support her weight; her other arm kept her up. Her hips, slim as they were, were the next obstacle. She had to tilt her right hip up and push with her toes and wriggle. By the time she had managed that and slithered her legs out, her pants were sliced open along her hip and a thin line of blood formed there as well.

"Ta-da!" Scraps stood and made a one-armed, triumphant pose, like a gymnast who had completed a show.

"You're hurt." Glitch really didn't like the sight of her bleeding, yet he couldn't deny his amazement that she had wriggled through that little, tiny space.

"Not much. Now hold my arm and pull like you mean it." She offered her limp arm to him.

"You've got to be kidding me." He looked horrified, aware of what she was asking.

"No children or small goats involved. To make the shedding of blood worthwhile, I must have both arms to work with." She simply blinked her fae, silver eyes at him.

With shaking hands and great reluctance Glitch reached out and took hold of the redhead's arm.

"Now lean back as I pull this way. Make a wish." Scraps barely gave him time as she P-U-L-L-E-D.

There was another pop and Glitch could feel it along her delicate-looking arm. He looked down to see her blood dripping onto his hands. "Good as new." She didn't even seemed pained by it. How could she not?

"He's taking too long. He's in trouble and I have to go. Stay tight." She pulled her arm from his suddenly-slack hands before stopping to squeeze his fingers, both of their grips slick with her blood.

"Do I have a choice?" He offered a weak smile that she answered with a grin.

"Time to be a mouse." She crossed the hall and started into the tunnel after Wyatt.


	19. Saving Each Other

Title: Learning to Live 19: Rescuing each other

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: "I want to go home. I hate this place. I hate traps. I hate this mission, and I HATE DOCTOR PIPT!"

There was a hiss as air rushed into the alcove and the metal door began to rise with a slow groan and the sound of grinding wheels.

"Oh, thank God," DG was perspiring and her vision had begun to swim as she tried to keep her breathing shallow. She was sick and tired of near suffocation. Being shot or stabbed might be a nice change of pace about now. She quickly amended that thought. _It was just sarcasm Lord, I really wasn't asking for any further near death experiences, Amen._

Jeb merely nodded as the door steadily cranked upwards. Just then the floor dropped out from under them. Literally. It dropped down with a thunderous crash far below.

Jeb's instincts had been honed in battle and training. The moment he felt the beginnings of a drop, he spread his legs and wedged himself by scissoring his lower legs between the sides of the alcove. His hand shot out and he grabbed DG's arm.

DG had dropped like a stone with a startled gasp, stopping only by the wrenching of her arm as she squealed at the sudden movement. Jeb had her gripped just below the elbow and her own hand automatically clamped his arm in the same place.

Her arm burned and her shoulder screamed; Jeb's couldn't be faring any better. Looking up at him it was plain to see his legs and hips had to be in agony as well. He was using himself as a brace for both of them.

"You ever consider losing a few pounds?" Jeb ground out through gritted teeth.

"If you weren't keeping me from becoming a bloody splat I'd threaten to kick your ass," DG swung her other arm up to grab Jeb's leg distributing her weight a bit and making her feel more secure.

DG looked down. It was at least a ten-story drop.

"I didn't touch anything, so it wasn't me," she was trying desperately not to think of the potential fall while thanking the good lord for the hellish training course the guard went through daily. Jeb was living proof of the kind of men and women it produced.

"Neither did I. Must have been a secondary trap," Jeb's face was turning red and the tendons in his neck stood out with the effort of trying to keep them both from falling.

The metal door was open but it was a cruel taunt.

Suddenly Glitch was there lying on his stomach on the floor and reaching for DG. "I ever tell you I hate hights, doll?"

He managed to wrap his arms just under her shoulders. "Gotcha." He turned to look at the man braced against the two walls. "Hey, Jeb. How ya doing?"

"Oh, you know, just hanging around," trusting Glitch to hold DG, he let go. DG wrapped her arms around Glitch's neck. She was shaking and nearly cut off his breathing with her frantic grip.

"You're not goin' anywhere," Glitch promised, holding her tight.

"I want to go home. I hate this place. I hate traps. I hate this mission, and I HATE DOCTOR PIPT!" DG's voice rose in pitch with each exclamation.

Jeb had his arm around the doorway and half-swung, half-leapt out into the hall. Once there, he helped pull Glitch and DG out onto the floor. He then flopped onto the cool sandstone beside them, admiring the ceiling and breathing heavily while trying to ignore the burn in his arm, shoulder and legs.

"Let's try not to do that again any time soon, mkay?," Jeb gasped out between heavy breaths. "Where's Dad?"

"He crawled into a hole to disengage the traps. It must have mostly worked because the spiked bars retracted and the door here opened," Glitch looked to the maintenance shaft and nibbled on his nail.

DG sat up. "Did you say 'crawled into a hole'?" Her eyes went large again.

Wyatt and small, enclosed spaces equaled a whole world of not good. If the three person wide tunnels of the underground mine months ago had him worked up…

She gained her feet and noticed the blood on Glitch's hand. "You're hurt."

"No, Scraps is. But she still went down that tunnel after your husband." Glitch pointed to the opening in the wall. It looked pathetically small and there was blood smears on the bottom and side of it.

* * *

_Itsy bitsy spider… _

Scraps could scramble better than a larger frame, arms and legs pushing her along. It felt repetitive. She'd done this before. Even if her head didn't recall, her body did. Instinct and body memory. Something in her blood, a chemical, made her not feel the cut on her shoulder. She knew the name of it somewhere but it had slipped away. She had been careful not to look so the hurt wouldn't push in.

_Climbed up the water spout_…

The air in here was a bit stale and dry; she could still smell the man of tin though. Leather and sweat and the taste of fear. She could even hear him breathing in the dark.

_Down came the rain… _

Once, pipes had carried water up above and condensation had made the tunnel wet in places. The water must have dried up when no one turned on the pumps every morning. However, the mildew that had formed was now powdered and people scraping along stirred it up. It itched in her nostrils and coated the back of her throat. It was foul. It was likely grinding itself into her wounds.

Her fingers brushed a booted foot.

"Mr. Cain. It's Scraps. You can come out now." She whispered the words, as if speaking too loudly would disrupt the dark.

_And washed the spider out…_ The boot wasn't moving.

"Are you sleeping?" She tried to wriggle up his back as far as she could, until her head was wedged at the base of his spine. The smell of leather from his vest was strong as her cheek pressed into it. She reached out with her good arm and wrapped her fingers around his shoulder as she shook him.

"No time for naps now. Almost there. Mission almost accomplished. Wakey, wakey," she spoke slightly louder, hoping to get through to him.

Logic could work here. "Feel my fingers. See, plenty of air. You don't like tight places, I know. But you did it. Hear the gears, calm the fears. So brave. DG and Jeb are waiting for you and will be very cross if you don't come out for sleeping. True love's kiss might turn into a slap for laziness."

Nothing. Oh fudge!

Sweat of fear made tin rust solid, crumble away a bit. Will and spine were steel, but the rest, more vulnerable to the elements. No oil can to loosen the joints and let the fear escape. Not in here. DG was the keeper of that treasure. Keep the Tin Man going.

Scraps crawled backwards and took hold of Cain's belt with both hands. With knees braced, she pulled with all she had, pain lacing up her arm, across her shoulder and hip. She bit back a growling scream behind her teeth. He moved about three inches as her arms shook.

"All muscle worse that fat. Fat gives way. Maybe you have a little fat, salty travel meat adds water weight. No more chocolate cakes for you, either. And if you pass gas now, I'll not be forgiving you," Scraps muttered as she worked up the strength and will to try again. "Weight on your shoulders should not transform into physical weight. Leave the world's weight behind so others can help carry you. No more clinging to false scales."

Something clamped around her ankles and she let out a startled scream in the tight quarters. It echoed in her head and sent her ears to ringing.

"Ow. I think you punctured an eardrum there," Glitch's voice drifted over her shoulder.

"You scared me. I thought you were a rat here for a nibble," her eyes narrowed at Glitch, but he couldn't see her expression in the dark.

"Not a rat. A cat to catch the mouse." Glitch chuckled. "Jeb has my ankles, sunshine. Just get a good hold of Cain and we'll all pull him out."

"He's heavy," she huffed in exasperation.

"It's his thick skull weighing him down. Okay now. Hold on." Glitch's hands were warm and wrapped firmly around her ankles.

Scraps felt her whole body stretch and her shoulder screamed in agony as she slid back a few feet, then stopped, then a few feet more and stopped.

In the end, all of them were pulled from the hole. Wyatt was sleeping. He'd likely be quite embarrassed when they woke him up, but Scraps considered it fitting that everyone had saved each other. Teamwork was grand when you'd been alone so long.

The Princess straddled the Tin Man's lap, oiling his joints with worry and care. Emotions a balm as much as physical lubricant. Her hands cupped his face. "Come on, cowboy, wake up."

The group caught their breath in the hallway as Jeb carefully worked on Scraps' shoulder. She whimpered when she looked; it was bleeding quite a bit.

But Jeb had a field kit with a special needle and thread.

"You're going to have to take your top off, hold it in front of you. But I need to get at that shoulder," the tips of Jeb's ears were pink. "And I'm gonna have to clean the cuts out."

Scraps pulled the shirt over her shoulders as Jeb and Glitch turned their heads and closed their eyes.

"I'm covered," she assured them before they'd look back.

She leaned forward to give Jeb the best angle. She saw Jeb's face as he looked to Glitch and turned to look at Glitch as his face went white, then red and his lips pressed together. She knew what they saw: she was a patchwork outside as well as in her head. Her back was a mass of crisscrossing scars and it got stiff sometimes if she didn't keep bending and flexing.

"Who did that to you?" Glitch's voice was shaking with anger.

"I did. When I was bad. Or not fast enough. Mostly the Collector corrected me with a belt or cane. Sometimes with a whip that snapped. Bad doggies are whipped or kicked. But, a few times, the men who hurt… they… liked patterns, too," she looked away from Glitch's face. She liked not remembering sometimes. Things like that, she could do fine without.

She felt his fingers on her chin, pulling her face around to look back at Glitch. His dark eyes were shiny with tears, "Sunshine, you didn't do any of it. No one deserves that. Well, most of the world doesn't. Doctor Pipt did this because he was sick and liked to hurt you. It isn't your fault at all."

Scraps winced as he spoke, because she could feel Jeb taking advantage of the distraction to pour something that burned like a brand on her deep slice, then poke, poke as he sewed her up, another piece of the quilt.

Glitch leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. It was warm and tingled, almost pushing out the burning of her shoulder and little sting of her hip. She offered him a small smile.

"I like your kisses. Your lips are soft." She watched him blush a bit and managed a grin through the pain. Yup, he was hers.

"Oh, God, my head hurts," Cain's voice croaked, cutting in.

"Happens when you faint. Down the whole you crawled and down the hole inside you fell. Many pits and traps here and not all outside our heads," Scraps grinned over Glitch's shoulder as Jeb finished stitching her up.

Cain seemed to be trying to work through what Scraps had just said.

"Wha? I don't faint," Cain looked to his wife as she was straddling his lap with his head still between her hands, checking his eyes for something.

"No dear, you passed out in a manly manner," DG kissed his nose.

"But you're all right. You and Jeb…" Cain looked around Glitch's back to see Jeb hold up a hand with blood-tipped fingers.

"All alive and accounted for. One injury, currently taken care of," Jeb packed away his field kit. "And you so fainted like a girl," his crooked smile was a Cain trademark.


	20. Finding

Title: Learning to Live 20: Finding

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: Scraps pointed to the short, husky man in the middle. "The Collector."

Beyond the hallway of treasures the four found a huge, cavernous room packed ceiling to floor with crates and boxes. It was lit brightly from above by vast skylights, glass panes, that were too large to hold up like they were except by magic or exceptional engineering. Or both.

Here and there, a gun lay atop a crate, or some grenades that looked odd, or something that looked like a landmine. The crates were marked with numbers and what could only be names for the weapons within. The whole room smelled of metal, oil, wood and the straw used as packing. Jeb was astounded by the vastness of it all.

"Holy shit! There are enough munitions here to supply the O.Z.'s army for fifty years." DG spun in a slow circle to take it all in.

"All the newest, most deadly. Highest bidder takes them. The clink of coin rings a death knell. Money soaked red with blood," Scrap's voice was soft, small, childish.

Jeb turned to see the haunted look on Scraps' face. She was holding her opposite hand to her arm, just under the stitched wound. Evidently the adrenalin had worn off.

In the middle of the room were four statues, three life-sized and one out of proportion. Scraps pointed to the four figures caught frozen in a moment. They were made of granite, running - two faces twisted in anger, one completely blank and another with an odd expression. They were perfectly detailed.

At their feet was an egg made of glass in a metal shell. Every once in a while it would shimmer gold then stop.

Scraps pointed to the short, husky man in the middle, "the Collector."

Next, to the man holding a knife as big as one of Jeb's, but with a gutting hook at the back of the tip, and a saw-like edge where Jeb's was flat.

"Mr. Greer. He's evil. Cuts for fun, to hear the screams. Loves to cause pain and take life. He plays with living toys. Games of life and death, and he never loses, but they always do. Carves flesh and calls it art." Scraps had gone from sounding like a lost child to sounding… flat. Empty.

Jeb looked at the two monsters. This was surreal.

"Lump," Scraps pointed to the huge figure. Half-again as tall as the average man, and thick with muscle under a fine-looking suit, his face was impassive. "He's a tic-tok golem," Scraps explained. "Gears and springs and magic hold him together under clay. But brains he has little of."

Then she moved closer to stand before the fourth figure. A man in his early thirties or so, a machine gun in hand. "Micha. He was kind, but not brave. Feared the Collector and Greer. Does as told, no matter his feelings. Fear rules over heart and head."

She looked at Jeb, her silver eyes boring into his blue. "I turned them to stone. The Liquid of Petrifaction was atomized within, and sprayed when tossed. As long as the egg is active, stone they will remain."

"I don't think anyone can blame you, Scraps. Pipt deserved to be a pigeon stand at the very least." Jeb could still see the pattern of scars across her back. This guy had the mercy of being unaware, frozen in time. Better and kinder a fate than others.

Scraps moved away from the statues and Jeb found himself following. A quick look showed the others were as well.

Scraps took them to a place over to the side. There, three of the oddest, largest bomb shells Jeb had ever seen sat upright. They were at least eight feet tall and four feet around.

"City killers. They level twenty miles around them. Little remains," somehow Scraps' words filled the cavernous room by virtue of their meaning.

Behind Jeb, DG spoke up, "This guy invented the nuclear bomb. Fat Man and Little Boy, O.Z. style."

"Huh?" Jeb spun and noted they were all looking at DG.

"On the Other side, there were these weapons, they leveled cities as well. They incinerated everything in the immediate area, but they did more than that. They poisoned the ground, anything they touched. The poison went into the air and carried on the wind. It made the survivors of the blast sick, the lucky ones died in days, the others lingered with cancers. Children born after the blasts were deformed and full of defects if they survived, because the poison sank into the cells."

Jeb was aghast, and he wasn't the only one. The looks of shock and horror on his father's face as well as Glitch's were certainly mirrored on his own.

"Why? Why would anyone do such a thing?" Glitch asked softly.

"Why would the witch want to bring eternal darkness and kill everyone in this world? I can't answer that." DG had her arms wrapped around her middle. "And the worst part is, it was the country I grew up in who first used that weapon. Once, to show its power. And, a second time to show they had more of the bombs available. It ended a terrible world war at a terrible price."

Jeb knew once thing for certain: He never wanted to visit the Other Side.

"These don't poison." Scraps moved past them to stand four feet away from the metal. "No lingering death. Just a flash and fire and concussive blast that pulverizes everything that refuses to burn."

"Right, we have to get rid of them, and any plans or schematics he had on how to build them," Jeb's father spoke up.

"I can set several of those smaller bombs up to take them out. Hour timer to let us get out and back to the cave in the mountainside," Jeb offered.

"Traps all around," Scraps looked at Jeb. "Touch anything and it kills. But there is an emergency switch in the invention room. It shuts down every trap and magical weapon in here. The Collector…"

"Was worried about getting himself caught in his own traps. You said it before." Glitch looked at the others. "I think we better shut everything down, set it to blow and get the hell out of here. No one will weep to see this sandcastle get washed away."

"It was never a home, just a prison and place of death. It can sink into the sands outside, trickle away with time," Scraps nodded. "Ashes to ashes and dust to dust."

"Okay, Scraps, which way to the workshop?" Cain looked at the 'statues', as if they would suddenly rear up and attack them.

"This way," she started to walk away.

Cain watched Scraps move. She was bloodied and wounded yet had managed to pull him out where panic had gotten the better of him. Not one of his proudest moments but much as she had when DG and Glitch had been zapped, she was much more…. lucid than she had been. Still enigmatic but more purposeful.

'Heat it up and it floats to the top,' she'd said.

This entire place made him twitchy from the moment they'd come through the gate. Now it had developed into a mad itch to be done and away. Every turn here appeared to be deadly.

"Wyatt," DG's hand slipped into his. "If there's any way to get them…"

He knew exactly what she was thinking; there was a damn museum of magical artifacts back there. Priceless, no doubt. And they had almost cost Jeb and her their lives.

"There won't be. I don't want any of you within six feet of any of those alcoves. Let them go into the desert."

Scraps dropped back with a grin that did nothing to comfort Wyatt.

"We throw the switch; it shuts down all traps and mechanical magics. Including the collection." Scraps danced away to walk by Glitch again, threading her arm through his.

"Gee, thanks Scraps," he muttered under his breath.

"An hour timer. We can collect what's portable. The shoes, the wand, anything we can carry." DG tugged at his hand.

"Deeg, that monster was addicted to collecting that stuff and willing to kill to do it," his eyes cut into hers.

"But he just wanted to possess them. I want to take back some of the Gale heritage and the other artifacts have such history… To let them be destroyed…. They could go to a museum or be studied. I don't want them for myself," she looked offended, easily catching his warning. "I'm not willing to kill for them, or allow anyone to die. But if we can…"

"We'll see," he sighed.

She squeezed his hand and almost skipped like a kid. Sometimes, it was easy to forget she was still a bit of a kid. He was so whipped.


	21. Facing the Past

Title: Learning to Live 21: Facing the Past

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: "Come on, let's blow this popsicle stand."

DG was still trying to calm her nerves. Not only from the trap she and Jeb had endured, but from the idea that Wyatt had passed out. She might have teased him, but unless he took a pretty hard hit, she had never known him to… well… faint. She knew he had to have had a panic attack - a really bad one which choked off his air supply until he'd passed out and was able to breathe again.

Understanding the mechanics of it didn't make her feel any different. She was both worried about his extreme claustrophobia - was it getting worse? - and so proud and awed that he had crawled into that passage anyway despite his own terror. That was true courage.

So she tried to focus on her surroundings, the Big Bombs, history and the fate of the magical artifacts because she didn't want to over worry much about her husband. He'd hate it, even be embarrassed if she fussed. After this trip maybe they both needed a bit more closet therapy.

Scraps led the small group to the laboratory, which consisted of two rooms. The main room was as big as DG's house back in Kansas. Inside was a mixture of steampunk meets _Star Trek _meets _Frankenstein_. There were control panels on two walls. A Jacobs ladder snapped and crackled as the electricity arced upwards making the room reek of ozone. Yup, any moment now Colin Clive or Gene Wilder was gonna walk through a hidden doorway.

Heavy tools, something like a jigsaw, routers, a boring mill, lathes, a machining center, a welder and things even she couldn't put a name to stood against one wall. This equipment was spaced by shelves full of metal bits and pieces that would seem harmless elsewhere but here they reeked of malevolence. In the center of the room was a table full of hand tools and some project left in pieces. It looked like a gun or a tazer. The other wall was a window into…

DG shivered. It was a surgical room. An O.R. with equipment she both recognized and didn't. There were jars of… my God… there were gallon sized glass containers with brains floating inside. Tubes and wires hooked them into the wall. A few of the brain tanks had a brown film on the glass and algae in the solution. The operating table had straps to hold down the 'patient'.

Scraps was pointedly not looking that way.

"Here it is." She stood before one of the banks of controls. There was a viewing screen and a… was that a old-style typewriter keyboard?

"You need to put in the password. The wrong one locks down the whole place. Then you flip those three switches at once," She pointed to a row of toggle switches. "And then you push the green button there." The button was small, just thumb-sized and almost lost in a group of other square, colored buttons.

"Please tell me you know the password," Glitch pleaded with Scraps.

"Please tell me you REMEMBER the password," Cain added.

Scraps pouted, "Of course I do. I think."

She paused to scratch along her zipper. "It was a place and a name…"

DG was ready to bang her head against the wall. So much for the easy way.

"Gotcha! It's Warren. Like homes for Bunnyburies." Scraps moved to the keyboard and typed in the word with loud clicks.

Several lights started flashing and ACCEPTED flashed on the view screen.

"Glitch…" Scraps indicated the switches and the button. "This will shut down everything."

Glitch didn't hesitate to flip the toggles and press the green button. It showed a great deal of faith in Scraps.

The flashing lights all turned green and the Jacob's ladder ceased arcing with a loud, popping snap.

"There you go. Everything is shut down. Jeb can go make his really big boom," Scraps looked incredibly happy at the thought.

"Right, let's get out of this creepy place." Jeb turned back and headed out the door to find the right explosives to rig around the city-killers.

Wyatt started to follow but DG kept hold of his hand and tugged him making him turn back.

"There's something I think Scraps needs to do first," DG held a hand out to the other woman.

"What?" Scraps blinked at her, confused.

DG picked up a large wrench from the table of tools. It was a good five pounds and the length of her arm from elbow to fingertips. She handed it to Scraps.

"You need to go into that room and destroy it," DG indicated the operating room on the other side of the wall of windows.

Scraps shook her head and wouldn't even look where DG pointed.

"You need to. So you can start to heal a bit. To feel that awful equipment break under your hand. To know you destroyed it," DG's voice was firm as she insisted.

"It'll go to the desert when the bombs go off. It'll die then," Scraps voice trembled as she shook her head.

"Darlin' I don't think you should push her," Cain's hand settled on DG's shoulder.

"You felt better when you watched those suits melted to slag. She needs this, Wyatt." DG still held out the wrench.

"DG's right." Glitch stepped forward and picked up a smaller wrench. "Come on, Scraps. I'll help you."

Scraps small hand wrapped around the wrench DG offered, and her eyes darted to the room. To the brains in their hideous contraptions.

"You'll be with me?" She looked over her shoulder to Glitch.

"All the way. Let's do this." He took placed a hand to the small of her back and helped guide her to a room that had to feature in Scraps' nightmares, when she remembered it.

DG watched as Scraps paused, shaking, in the doorway. Then she stepped forward and swung the wrench like an expert batter knocking the tray full of surgical instruments apart, sending the scalpels and clamps scattering.

"That's it, sunshine!" Glitch swung and smashed into what appeared to be an anesthesia machine.

Scraps began swinging at anything in the room, a look of hatred on her face. It was a look DG would never forget as the small, gentle woman let loose her anger and fear on the room where she'd first been violated, her mind taken from her.

In mere minutes, she and Glitch had smashed- or at least dented -everything in there. The jars were broken splinters on the floor, their terrible contents spilled. The table's thin stuffing was slashed and ripped out. The sound of clanging metal and shattering glass continued a ghostly echo in the air. Both Scraps and Glitch were breathing hard from their symphony of destruction.

There were tears streaming down Scraps' face as she dropped the wrench with a heavy clang. She turned to Glitch and threw her arms around him, burying her face into his chest as she cried great wracking sobs. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand smoothing her untamable red curls as he made soft, comforting sounds amidst the carnage.

Cain put an arm around DG's shoulders. "Looks like you were right."

"I usually am. 'bout time you caught on," she grinned up at him, laying her head against his shoulder. "Come on, let's blow this Popsicle stand."

Wyatt looked down at her and shook his head. "I almost understood that."

"You're getting better. Before you know it, you too will be using Otherside slang to amaze your friends and confound your enemies." DG gave a little laugh, now that relief had washed over her. They didn't have to be careful of every little thing.

"Oh, shit!" Jeb's cry only briefly preceded him flying through the door, tossed like a rag doll, and smashing into one of the control panels.

Cain's gun was already out and aimed at the door before Jeb hit with a solid thud.

"Oh my God! Jeb!" DG turned to check out the younger Cain.

Then she saw the doorway fill with a massive shape. Roughly-made features cut into a slack-jawed face, blank, black eyes staring at them. The muscular frame was stuffed into a pinstripe suit, like an old-time gangster.

"Lump! It shut down all mechanical magic. It turned off the egg!" Scraps' fists flew to her mouth, trying to press back any other kind of scream.

"Stand back," Cain barked an order.

The blank-faced giant ignored him and stepped forward. Cain shot and a bullet hole appeared right between the eyes. But the man shaped thing kept coming.

"Tic-tock Golem. Bullets can't stop it. It's the damned terminator," DG called out from Jeb's side. Cain was already backing up.

"How do you shut it down?" Cain cried.

"I don't know, I never learned," Scraps retrieved her giant wrench.

Lump swept a huge arm across the work table, sending tools scattering as he regarded them, trying to decide which one he should smash first. His eyes finally settled on Cain. Wyatt fired three more times into the thing's middle in the hopes of damaging some vital gears or mechanisms. It only seemed to put holes in the things suit.

Jeb was slowly gaining his feet, wincing. "If we turned off all the machines and magical devices, how is he still running?"

"That's easy. I started him back up, of course," a jovial voice came from the rotund, grandfatherly man in the doorway. His eyes took in DG and her friends to settle finally on Scraps.

"Oh dear. Molly, you've been a very, very bad girl. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished quite severely," he shook his head, the picture of disappointment.

Scraps screamed in terror.


	22. Confrontation

**Title:** Learning to Live 22: Confrontation

**Author:** purplerhino

**Disclaimer:** ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

**Spoilers:** Everything.

**Rating:** PG-16

**Characters/Pairing:** DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

**Summary:** Then he was there. The nightmare. The master. The Collector.

**A/N: **_This is the first time I had music in mind and played it while writing a scene. The music that helped inspire the pace and general feelingof the fight sequence is "Epic" by Faith No More. In case anyone is interested. When writing the expanded and more detailed scene I went back and replayed the music to continue the feel._

Scraps had been emotionally reeling in the aftermath of destroying the Medical Forum. Glitch had held her and told her it was over and done with, soothing her. She knew she was getting his red jacket all wet, but she was having a hard time stopping the tears. He just held on, protecting her from everything. She wanted to stay there, all wrapped up. She felt safe for the first time she could recall. That recall was getting better as well. It was still spectacularly deficient but not as bad.

When Jeb flew through the door and smashed against the water control panel and Lump filled the door, the illusion of safety was shattered. She would never ever be safe.

She remembered the egg, it was mechanical and magical and a device. They had turned it off with the pulse from the main turn off. She said something but her head wasn't registering what. She picked the wrench back up out of instinct more than thought. She was back. She was back and Lump was coming to get her and haul her to the Collector.

The gunshots reminded her she wasn't alone. Her friends were here. Jeb, he was getting back to his feet.

Then he was there. The nightmare. The master. The Collector.

He looked right at her. "Oh dear. Molly, you've been a very, very bad girl. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished quite severely."

It didn't matter that her friends were here. It didn't matter. She was back and he was going to get her. Yank out the other half and stomp it under his shiny shoes. She would cease to be even if her body lived. If there was anything left he would let Greer have her to strip away the skin and cut out bone while she begged to die.

She heard screaming and wished DG would stop. But it wasn't DG. It was her. She choked off the sound as Glitch pushed her behind himself and raised an empty hand. His body was tense, but more than that. His body was in a balanced position that distributed his weight and braced him for attack or defense.

"You're not going to touch her." He sounded determined. He was weaponless and so brave, but what could he do?

"Looks like little Molly has found a champion. Did you fuck him to pay for this bravado? All boy build and girl parts, or was it your flexibility that made you interesting?" The Collector just made her want to throw up.

"Don't you dare speak to her like that. Don't even speak her name." Glitch's voice had a soft, cold quality to it Scraps had never heard before.

Scraps - Molly, Molly - Scraps; she was both. But Molly had died in the room behind her. Ten-annuals-old, she'd been cut out, cut in half and part replaced so now only Scraps remained. Glitch, he was the only one who understood that. Now he was going to die because of her.

"And what will you do, you scarecrow of a man?" Pipt's benevolent smile didn't leave his face.

"You have no idea what I can do." Glitch clenched his fists, white-knuckled.

"Can you do this?" Pipt raised his hand and he sent a wave of crackling red magic that sent Glitch flying back into Molly and sending them both into the wall. Her skin burned as electricity arced through them both, searing pain, disrupting thought, synapses misfiring as the energy caused nerves to spark and muscle to convulse.

"Glitch!" DG was calling out from beside Jeb.

Scraps watched what happened with a strange, hazy detachment as numbness took over.

Greer moved passed the Collector Man, his knife so shiny. He was smiling an oily smile showing sharp teeth. His delight over having some new toys to sing for him was obvious. Micha came through the other side. He saw Scraps and a face full of apology wasn't enough as he took aim at the man of tin, around Lump.

Cain turned and fired a shot, taking Micha in the gut. Scraps whimpered, part of her horrified at the sight of the closest thing she had to a friend in her childhood crumpled, blood blossoming across his shirt just above his navel. He slid down the wall, one hand going over the wound in an attempt to stop the blood.

Greer leapt onto the work table, grinning down at DG. Cain turned to fire on him, however Lump grabbed Cain by the outstretched arm and shook him. There was a snapping sound and Cain cried out. Scraps bit through her lip as everything in her world came crashing down.

At the moment Greer stepped towards her DG did something that sent a bolt of green lightning to strike him in the chest. He flew backwards off the table and hit the wall near the door.

"A Mage, how wonderful," Dr. Pipt sounded as delighted as a child offered cookies. He raised his hand and flames shot towards DG. She sent a blast of wind to turn the flames back towards Pipt who ceased before he could be burned. "Some talent too. This is going to be so much fun."

At the same time Greer rose up again and rushing at the princess. He never completed the slash he made for her as his blade was blocked by another knife. Jeb Cain had his own grin and it was just as scary. Then the two men were on each other, blades flashing and blocking and blade-less fists trading blows.

Greer tried to stab Jeb in the gut. Jeb dodged then clamped his own arm over his opponent's outstretched one at the same time as he brought his other arm down hard on Greer's inner elbow. Jebs blade slipped under Greer's arm, slicing deep into Greer's tricep. The psychopath only grunted before swinging his free fist into Jeb's kidney.

Glitch rolled over and got onto his hands and knees shaking off the effects of the electric jolt. He gained his feet and snatched something from the floor. Dr. Pipt didn't take one thing into consideration when attacking him. Glitch and Scraps both were used to their synapses not firing right and could overcome it.

"Molly… Scraps…stay down, stay back," Glitch's soft chocolate eyes met hers. They were determined as he turned away locking his eyes on Lump.

Pipt continued in a magic battle with DG; spells flung and arced, countered and dodged. Glitch had sense enough not to get into the middle of that. He'd be extra crispy real fast.

He ran forward and jumped onto Lump's back. Wielding a scalpel from the medical room he cut through the back of Lump's suit and his faux flesh. Lump reached back to grab him and Scraps gained her own feet. Ignoring Glitch's words to her she darted out to crack her wrench against the arm trying to gain a hold on Glitch.

Cain swung his legs and with bent knees his feet connected with the golem's chest. He kicked into the creature, sending himself backwards and was dropped. His gun arm lay limp at his side, broken. He swung his leg and caught the thing behind the knee, causing it and Glitch to fall. Evidently that was a weak spot Wyatt had recognized.

Cain barely rolled out of the way of Lump's forward crash. Scraps could see the agony wash over Wyatt's face as he rolled over his own broken arm.

Scraps brought the wrench down with all she had onto Lump's head, watching a dent appear. She regretted that he didn't have a brain to bash in.

Lump regained his feet too quickly, shaking Glitch off. But Glitch moved half- running up the golem's back, almost in defiance of gravity, before hanging onto fabric and getting to work on the opening he had sliced into Lump.

Lump struck out at Scraps and she felt his fist connect with her side. She was airborne and landed on her back among broken glass. It was her scars that saved her: the scar tissue was tough enough to prevent all but a few shallow cuts and punctures instead of slicing her open to the bones. She heard Glitch call her name.

Her side hurt and she had trouble dragging in air, she could barely move whether from the impact or broken bones she wasn't entirely certain. She could only watch as everything went on around her. Each person fighting their battles at the same time.

She saw Pipt sending glowing blue darts at DG and she had some sort of pink bubble around her, deflecting them. She shot a green, glowing whip at him and he batted it aside, before she cracked it once more, slicing his cheek. His face was twisted in anger at that. No longer the jovial old man. He made a slicing motion with his hand and DG cried out as an invisible blade sliced into her side.

There was a gunshot. It felt surreal to Scraps. She watched, numb once more, as Pipt dropped to the ground lifeless. A bullet in his throat, his blood spurting with the last few heartbeats. He had not been felled by magic, nor advanced weapons, but a left handed gunshot from a right handed Tin Man.

"Damn, I was aiming for his head," Wyatt said loud enough to Scraps to hear over the grunts and connection of metal and flesh from Jeb and Greer as well as Lump's flailing in trying to dislodge Glitch.

Cain next took aim at the man dancing the blade dance with Jeb. They spun and blocked, brutal and beautiful, graceful and vicious. Both had bleeding cuts and bruises from punches and elbows and kicks. Their styles were different, but they were equally matched. Scraps noted that Jeb was just as cold, savage, devious and as unscrupulous as Greer.

Cain finally got a shot and pulled the trigger, only to have it click; he'd spent his last round on Pipt and had to reload.

Scraps watched as, at the same moment, Glitch shoved his hands deep into Lump's back as the giant golem spun, trying to get hold of the wiry man.

Glitch closed his eyes, visibly concentrating on his little spark of magic. "If I can make them, I can shut them down."

With a blue flash Lump stumbled and faltered. Glitch had separated the magic from the mechanics. The magic was the power as well as half the animation. Glitch jumped free as Lump stumbled again. The technomancer preformed a flying windmill kick that connected to the mechanical man's head, sending him careening against the table, splintering it with a loud crash. Lump did not get up.

Glitch gave a tight smile and a satisfied nod.

Cain had dumped his empty shells and set his gun between his knees to try to reload one-handed. DG rushed to his side, picking up the weapon to help him. Jeb and Greer were moving fast. Scraps could barely follow them, how could anyone shoot?

Greer tried to swipe at Jeb's throat. Jeb's wrist blocked the move. Then Jeb's grin widened.

"I always carry a spare," Jeb hissed at his opponent as he pulled his second blade. A large knife in either hand Jeb crossed his arms and pulled both elbows straight back at shoulder height. The move had a scissoring effect and Greer barely registered it as his neck was cut to the spine. Blood splattered gruesomely.

Greer dropped his knife and tried to wrap his hands around his throat even as he fell, head hinging back to show the gaping near decapitation before he hit the floor.

Scraps saw Micha looking over at her, a small smile on his face. She moved to the mercenary's side in a pained shuffle and sank to her knees beside him. "Micha..."

"S'alright. Never was a good guy," Micha took his hand from the gunshot in his gut. There was no stopping the bleeding. His eyes were already glazing. "Sorry, Molly girl. Live good."

Micha drew a deep breath and was still.

And just like that, Scraps' past was gone. Killed in front of her. She found herself weeping again, from relief and from some strange emptiness she couldn't name.

Glitch was at her side again, carefully pulling her up. "It's really over, sunshine," he stated as he gently hugged her, then stopped to step around her, hand on her shoulder.

"He was afraid, but he was nice to me. His name was Micha," she took the moment to weep for the man who had been the closest thing to a friend she'd had as a child.

Glitch wrapped his arms around her and let her tears finish soaking his coat. With a final sniffle she pulled back. They had stuff to do and things to blow up. "Enough for now. Too much to be done yet."

"Your shirt's a total loss." Glitch didn't look at any of the bodies. He gently turned Scraps around so he could examine her back and carefully pull three splinters of glass out. They weren't too deep, but stung. "Mostly scratches, but it looks like hell."

"Boy, do you know how to make a girl feel special," she sniffed from crying.

"C'mere." He hugged her again, pressing a kiss to her zipper at the top of her head.

Scraps lifted her head and reached up to press her lips to his. He jumped a bit, startled. But then Glitch was kissing her back, lips sliding against one another. It made her feel alive more than the smashing had and more free than the death of those who hurt her.

There was a none-too-discrete cough that made them jump back.

In the middle of the room she could see DG and Jeb helping Wyatt to his feet.

"You think you left anything in that operating room that can be used as a splint and sling? Hopefully something not covered in brains," DG's eyes traced from the demolished surgery to the two of them.


	23. Taking Stock

Title: Learning to Live 23: Taking Stock

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: "You're doing much better in the noggin, sunshine."

In the aftermath the machine shop and lab were a bloody mess. DG reflected that was sad that while saddened,, only Scraps was nauseated from it. There had been too much death in the past for the rest of them.

DG and Glitch were the least injured. Plenty of clean gauze was found, as was sturdy canvas in the weapons storage area. Glitch seemed a bit too happy as he used the torch welder to remove two of Lump's forearm struts for use as braces for Cain's broken arm. There was a rather delicious irony in that as the golem had delivered the injury in the first place. Unfortunately, it appeared that both Cain's radius and ulna had been snapped. DG used her magic to realign the bones properly but she was not a Healer and unlike Raw she couldn't relieve pain or speed things up. She wondered how much therapy Wyatt would need to be able to draw and shoot the same. He'd not settle for anything less than his former proficiency.

They wrapped Cain's arm and the braces completely, twice around, in canvas to make a sturdy splint. The rest of the canvas made a sling to hold the arm bent and strapped firmly against Wyatt's body.

Jeb's back was one large bruise, with darker areas of bruise and five round punctures where toggle switches had been when he hit the control board. He also had several cuts and slashes, which were all treated with a burning liquid that turned out to be whiskey, as all the proper sterilization medicines had been spilled on the floor. Each wound was properly wrapped with gauze. In a strange reversal of earlier, Scraps had to stitch a really deep slash across Jeb's chest, as she was the only one who knew how to sew. Glitch reminded her to make a drain from some of the supplies not smashed beyond recognition. To reduce scarring she used many small stitches. After all, the other princess might not like it if he had a nasty-looking scar.

DG also needed about five stitches to the slash across her ribs, at the deepest part.

Glitch had only scrapes and bruises, which everyone else declared completely unfair.

Sending the boys out to finish rigging Jeb's bomb, DG spent time with tweezers removing some of the small splinters of glass that had managed to lodge in Scraps' scar tissue.

"Scars don't feel, unless you penetrate them," Scraps stated. "I've penetrated many scars today."

"And what do you feel?" DG wished she could see Scraps' eyes as she wrapped gauze around the other woman's torso.

Scraps' voice was soft and small. "Numb."

Scraps ended up wearing Glitch's red outer jacket in place of her ruined shirt. The sleeves had to be rolled up, and the tails went to the middle of her calves. DG thought she looked like a child playing dress up but she didn't say it.

When they joined the men the girls found them finishing up. The blocks of volatile pink stuff looked like plastic explosives had a bastard child with Play-doh. There were six strapped to each of the three bombs, all wired to a single timer. There was also an empty crate alongside them.

"One hour. It should give us more than enough time to get out," Jeb announced as he stripped the last connecting wire of its rubber coating and twisted it firmly around the terminals on the timer.

"If we're back at the cave how will we know if this worked?" DG didn't want to walk away only to have this fail.

"The gate," Glitch reached down for the crate. "A hint of the blast should come through it but be cut off as the magic framework is collapsed on this side," He paused and looked heavenward, "Of course, how much of a hint of this rather impressive explosion will come through… well, I think it's best we're out of the cave when it happens."

"Desert dwellers will see the cloud of sand for miles, as will some people living on the edge of the wasteland. It will go so high up into the sky." Scraps added, her voice clear.

"You're doing much better in the noggin, sunshine." Glitch beamed at her.

"This company provides optimal support. Logic helps." She led the way back the way they had come.

"Crate, Glitch?" DG walked between Cain and a limping Jeb.

"To hold some of those artifacts," Cain told her with a small smile.

DG gave a squeal and very gingerly hugged her husband.

In the display gallery they gathered what was small enough until the crate began to push a reasonable carrying-weight limit.

It was rather anticlimactic passing back through the gate to the mountain in Winkie Dutchy. They didn't even have to run. Which was a very good thing, what with the way they were all hurting, limping and stiff. DG figured they'd be worse tomorro, once they'd rested overnight and their bodies let them know all the hurts accumulated.

So much for the big, dramatic escapes from the movies she mused. They didn't even come down to the wire. They closed the doors while making sure not to reset the lock trap. Hopefully any blast would NOT set off the nitroglycerine. They stayed on the ledge because they had to be SURE it worked and none of them could climb down and then climb back up.

The companions waited fifteen minutes before the roar was heard and the ground shook slightly. Dirt and small rocks tumbled down from the mountain above but not enough to be a real danger.

All five of them opened the doors and coughed at the cloud of pulverized dust that rushed out. When the air cleared, they stepped in and felt the heat. The temperature in the cave was at least ninety degrees, which was considerably hotter than the outside. It got hotter as they descended the stairs. They couldn't go far because the large gears from the ceiling were tossed about on the ground like discarded tiddly-winks. Sandstone and a part of one of the vehicles from the garage the gate had opened into joined in the rubble. The false gate was smashed on the ground, the metal hot and some still smoking. The walls and ceiling were scorched and blackened.

"I think the bombs went off just fine." Jeb looked at the others.

"Uh-huh." DG looked, wide-eyed at the destruction. It was amazing the ceiling hadn't collapsed. "Let's get out of here. We have no idea how unstable this is now."

The climb back down the hill, even with the ropes, was agonizing. After lowering the crate down with the rope they had to navigate the steep slope themselves. Wyatt was in the middle, to his loud complaint, as he had to go down one-handed and it insured Glitch or Jeb could keep him from falling.

The horses were at the nearest farm, which meant they would be spending the night in their tents and have to walk an hour the next day, which no one was looking forward to.

As Jeb and Scraps made a fire and started a dinner from rice and salted tack in their packs, the others took inventory of the artifacts they'd rescued.

The silver slippers and the crystal-tipped wand had been the first in the crate. The goblin-crystal orbs were in a large pouch so no one could look into them and be caught by their own dreams. The rest of the inventory consisted of a plain brass drinking goblet, a rough-cut hand-length shard of dark amethyst; a clear crystal vial filled with a fiery-red glowing liquid; a fresh and living pansy, sparkling with dew and kept in a sealed case of apparently unbreakable glass; a pouch full of sparkling dust; what appeared to be a chestnut covered in chocolate; a sheathed double-edged blade as long as a forearm with odd writing curling along the blade portion; and a apparently broken compass.

They had left behind the portables that felt or looked evil. Glitch had insisted on the crystal balls, even though they were dangerous they were not evil.

"So what do you suppose they are? What do they do?" Cain asked DG as she made note of each one. She had to write Cain's report to her mother as his left-handed attempts at writing were completely illegible.

"Well Glinda's wand acted as some sort of focus for her power. The slippers have some sort of protective and teleportation magic. Scraps and Glitch told us about the crystal orbs. But, as for the rest… research will have to be done." DG shrugged and looked over the assortment of magic. "We'll leave that to Glitch. He likes digging through dusty old books."

"Until he gets distracted by deciding to make an invention that could work as well as some spell or another." Cain indicated their friend, who had wandered away from the inventory to talk with Jeb and Scraps.

DG laughed. "Looks like that's not all that distracts him."

"Jeb said she could dance," Cain gave a soft chuckle. "My worry is that the two of them will double the amount of chaos around the palace."

"Keeps everyone from being bored to death. I'm just waiting to see Commissioner Garalli's reaction to this turn of events," She returned Cain's smile with a spark of mischief in her eyes.

"I think Ambrose better finish working on those bullet proof shirts," Cain watched as Scraps took hold of Glitch's hand and led him over to the fire pit.


	24. I See Fire and I See Rain

Title: Learning to Live 24: I See Fire and I See Rain

Author: purplerhino

Disclaimer: ::Ahem:: Points to all previous disclaimers.

Spoilers: Everything.

Rating: PG-16

Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, AZ/Jeb, Glitch /SemiOC

Summary: Scraps' knee nudged his. "You owe me a kiss."

The tents were up again. Glitch had helped Scraps put hers together since the sky had darkened and they all could hear the rumble of thunder. A nest wouldn't do in a potential downpour, in fact it would likely turn into a pool.

Jeb chose the first watch. Truthfully, it was the easiest. Glitch was well aware how people were gonna feel once they'd laid down and relaxed letting their bodies come to terms with things. They were gonna stiffen up and movement would hurt. Actually, Cain should get the first shift. Glitch got the feeling that if the Tin Man slept, no one was gonna wake him as he was most injured with Jeb running a close second. The ride back was going to be unpleasant even at a slow pace. Cain was gonna feel every jar in his broken arm unless they dosed him with some of the poppy juice in Jeb's small med pack.

Cain had turned it down so far because it might take away the pain but it would also make him considerably less than alert. Hopefully, an hour on horseback would make him capitulate.

Glitch stirred the fire. The crackling of the flames and the smell of the woodsmoke was somewhat soothing. DG and Cain had gone to their tents to try and sleep; Jeb was walking the perimeter. So, when someone sat down next to him there was only one person it could be.

"Do you want to be called Scraps or Molly?" He looked sidelong at her.

She'd changed into one of her own shirts and he was almost sorry for that. She looked adorable in his overcoat. The firelight danced over her, making her look far more fey then even daylight. Her large, silver eyes turned to him.

"I'm half of each," she stated, as if that were an answer.

"So what, Scrolly? Moraps?" He gave a teasing grin.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I don't know."

"Well, I'm both Glitch and Ambrose. I go by both. My friends call me Glitch. But formally, I'm Ambrose. I can't ever go back to being just plain Ambrose, you see," he watched the tip of his prodding stick burn.

"You spent too long as Glitch. Saw more as him than as Ambrose. So Glitch won," she nodded in understanding. She just might be the only person who ever would completely understand.

"Half of Molly is gone. I can only remember bits in flashes. Brain's camera sends me a picture but it fades at some point and is lost again. I barely know Molly. I don't even know her surname. She was ten annuals when half of her died. I don't want to be her ever again, so lost and scared in the parts I remember," she sighed, her voice sad.

"But Scraps is confused, and often scared. Scraps remembers bits that aren't hers to remember. Lives I never lived. I think I'll take your route. Friends can call me Scraps," her smile lit up her face. "Because quilts are made of Scraps, right?"

"There you go," he answered her smile with a soft one of his own.

"Hey, I have an idea," Glitch felt himself reaching out to take Scrap's hand.

It was small in his. She was small but stronger than she gave herself credit for. She survived a lot and could still be sunny and bright, lighting up every place around her with an innocence she had managed to retain through all the horrors. She had the courage to face her fears and her past. Overall, she was an amazing woman.

"When we get back, I'll get you a journal. You can write down the flashes when they come and before they fade. Then you can go back and read them when they're gone." Glitch wished he'd thought of such a thing when he only had half a brain. But then, his flashes were often so rapidly gone, it likely wouldn't have mattered.

Scraps looked excited her eyes sparkled in the firelight and she almost jumped up and down as she sat. "Oh, yes. That's brilliant. And if I keep reading it maybe the real memory will come back. Even if it doesn't, I can piece it all together again just like my brain."

Glitch went back to poking at the fire. Thunder rumbled and it sounded closer.

Scraps's knee nudged his. "You owe me a kiss."

"Huh?" he looked up, startled.

"I squeezed out like a happy ferret. Kiss was the toll," her eyes sparkled.

"I seem to recall a kiss was the toll for freeing us. Technically, Cain freed us. You freed Cain. That's a singular, not an us," he pointed out carefully.

"Grasping at straws. Taking out your own stuffing. Avoidance tactics are noted," she sighed, disappointment painted her face.

"AND, I already kissed you, in the control room. I distinctly remember a kiss." Glitch stirred the fire some more making a log fall into the center with an explosion of sparks.

He wasn't certain of the stirring in himself or the sparks felt, not seen.

"I kissed you. Doesn't count. Kiss taken, not offered. You don't have to. It's okay," She made to disentangle her hand and get up.

But he wouldn't let her. He kept hold of her hand and pulled her back. Luckily, it was not the shoulder all sewn up that was tugged.

"What if I wanted to, without owing it? Just because."

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Hers were soft, sweet as he sandwiched the lower, plump one between his own. She was leaning into him, shoulder to shoulder. It was a simple kiss, and it shot through him more than any magic had. He... tingled.

His fingertips traced her jawline and she whimpered a little. A sudden rise in desire argued with his sense of propriety and honor. Glitch told Ambrose to go stuff it where the suns didn't shine and he deepened the kiss.

She tasted like raspberries and the sunshine he'd called her. She was tentative, her tongue following his lead, uncertain. It was that uncertainty that made him pull away. She'd been touched without permission too many times and he didn't want to be associated with anything bad. She jumped back from the kiss as well, as lightening flashed and a loud crack was heard right after.

"Oh, my," she opened her eyes and looked at him. "I'm so glad you're mine."

Glitch took a steadying breath. "You keep saying that."

"Sometimes I know things," she gave an enigmatic smile.

He took a steadying breath. Why was he so drawn to her? He didn't know. Maybe he knew things, too because he couldn't think of anyone but her. "What if I want you to be mine instead?"

"We can be each other's." She kissed him this time, much more bold, with an obvious passion that surprised and delighted Glitch. A few drops of water went unnoticed. Even as those drops gathered into a more solid rain.

"Will you two just climb into a tent already?" Jeb called from the darkness.

They backed away and Glitch could see Scraps' blush. Her hair was getting heavy with water that sparkled like jewels. The sparkle of the zipper at the top of her forehead the biggest jewel of them all so that she was glistening and crowned with diamonds and stars.

"He's a brat, you know," Glitch murmured quietly, feeling the water slide down his face and drip off his chin.

"We're scarring him more than his cuts, you know." Scraps laughed merrily, the sound filling the small camp. "But not as much as he likes to pretend."

"Go get dry in your tent, Scraps." Glitch indicated the direction with a nod of his head.

"Maybe, one day, I'll get wet in yours." She stood and walked to her tent, ducking inside.

Glitch sat there in shock. Scraps, innocent, sweet Scraps, had just propositioned him. What was the world coming to?


	25. Homeward Bound

Title: Learning to Live 25: Homeward Bound

Jeb and Glitch had fetched the horses, paying for their board and keep for the time the farmers had tended them.

As predicted, everyone was sore. Even Glitch. Scraps had tried doing stretches that didn't pull on her stitched-up shoulder, but she caught herself when she suddenly couldn't breathe. A second examination showed the massive bruise on her left side. It was judged that at least two ribs were bruised, if not cracked.

Glitch had managed to stretch and work through a flexibility range, with more than a few winces.

But once mounted up… it was bad. Jeb felt every motion of the horse pull at his cuts and chest and jar his back. The injury was more than a bruise, his spine had jarred but, luckily, not damaged. His stitches were inflamed, but not the kind of wicked red that suggested poisoning of the blood. He'd had to redress the wound because the drain was working, pulling a sickly, pink fluid from the wound. It was an hour before the pain faded into a constant ache, occasionally punctuated by stabbing agony.

Looking back, his father was white as a sheet and perspiring. His jaw was clenched and if he weren't an excellent rider - able to rock gently with the steps of his horse while keeping his upper body fairly movement-free - he'd be chipping teeth. His father's arm had swollen overnight; he couldn't even bend his fingers. Carefully readjusting the splint revealed a bruise that was purple-black in the shape of an enormous hand, just below the break in his arm.

Jeb was worried because, too much swelling might cut off circulation, causing the tissue to die. There was a possibility his father could lose his arm if the swelling got any worse. He's seen it happen, usually from infection, but not always. He did not want to strategically slice open the flesh, and occasional muscle of his father's arm to relieve pressure if it could in any way be avoided. That WOULD make infection a considerable risk. Jeb just hoped DG had no idea how serious an injury this was turning out to be.

DG was actually riding alongside Wyatt to the point where their legs brushed occasionally. She looked sick herself, with worry. If his dad toppled, she could prop him up if he fell her direction, but if he didn't…

Jeb fell back, taking place on his father's other side.

"I'm fine." Cain swallowed and forced that mask on his face.

"Sure you are. And you'll be fine when you fall over," DG snapped at him. "You're just honky dory. You could run a frickin' marathon."

"I've had broken bones before." He was obviously trying to keep his own temper.

"And you were able to recuperate and you took the medication the Healers gave you," Jeb added to the argument. "You could rest the injuries and they were in a proper cast. And that was without the crushing injury compounding things."

Jeb glared at his father. "I remember your broken leg. You were unbearable from the inactivity and feeling useless. And I was only six at the time. I think mom dosed your coffee because you were less likely to snap at us in the morning."

DG looked over at Jeb. "His problem now is if he gets too snappy with me, I'll beat him over the head with a stick. If he's unconscious, we could sling him over the horse and not worry about him."

"Now you're ganging up on me?" Cain glared.

"Not hard. If we batted you on the shoulder you'd fall down," Jeb observed.

"Not one of us isn't hurting, boy. Including you. Just drop it," his father barked at him loud enough to draw Glitch and Scraps to a stop as they circled their horses to look back at them.

Scraps was looking pale as well, definitely trying to hunch around her bruised ribs, as if the position would protect them. Glitch had been distracting her with non-stop prattle.

"Ouch, you look like something the cat coughed up." Glitch looked over Cain and added his opinion.

"Will you just leave me alone? The longer you argue with me, the more time we're on the road." Wyatt's color was back, but only because of his anger. He was still pinched around the lips and eyes.

"Wyatt…" DG touched his leg gently and spoke softly. "You take care of us all the time. Let us worry about you for now."

Jeb noted she was pulling out the Eyes. The big, pleading eyes that seemed to be a kind of secret weapon against his father.

"At our current rate, we should reach a village we'd passed through last time before the last sun sets. They should have a Healer there," Scraps tried to mediate.

Glitch beamed at her. "You remembered that? Oh, hon, you're doin' great!"

Scraps blushed.

"Good, it can't be soon enough." Jeb dug into his depleted med kit, producing the small bottle of poppy juice. "Until then, you'll take a drop or two of this, even if I have to hold you down and pry your mouth open, which will be much more humiliating than falling off your horse."

Jeb shot his father a look letting him know that he'd follow through if he had to.

With a curse, Cain took one drop of the bitter liquid.

"Can we get moving now?"

Within a half hour, Jeb noticed his father visibly more relaxed, color returning, but watching the passing scenery with a kind of odd fascination. Oh yeah, the colors must have just gotten more vivid. His body likely felt heavy and he was likely more relaxed and mellow than he'd been in years. Jeb bit back a smile.

They came upon the village by nightfall. It held some three hundred souls and they did have a Healer, there was no inn, per say, but a rooming house was available.

DG sent another packet along with personal letters, and a report of their location and condition. It looked like they were going to have to stay here a few days.

Jeb had been given antibiotics to stave off infection, and Scraps had been complimented on her fine stitching. He'd also been given a mild pain reliever, they all had.

Jeb watched the Healer give his father something to reduce the swelling. Cain watched as a plaster cast was wrapped around his arm.

"Hopefully, I'll have to cut this off and reapply another as that swelling goes down, young man." The elderly woman washed the plaster off her hands.

She looked at DG. "Whatever you people have been up to, you sure got the shit beat out of you."

DG choked on a laugh, no doubt at the sixty-odd-annual-old woman's language.

"That we did," she agreed. "But we're better off than the other guys."

Jeb raised an eyebrow. She was taking death a hell of a lot better; she'd thrown up and wept a lot in the aftermath of the Eclipse. Since she and Az were kidnapped, she only paled a little and moved on. Now she joked. He'd seen people lose their innocence before. It seemed the end of the witch's reign hadn't stopped the harshness of the world.

He hoped Az didn't have to witness any more death. She was still so fragile. She's witnessed too much, and yet still found horror in death. She was a hell of a woman.

He shook off those thoughts. Now wasn't the time.

"How's Scraps?" Jeb asked, instead.

"Too damn thin. That girl needs meat on her bones," the Healer huffed. "I prescribed hardy stew and bread. She has one cracked rib and a couple of bruised ones. If she was more than skin and bones the blow would have been cushioned a bit. Her shoulder's doin' fine."

The Healer packed up her things into a carpetbag. "Those of you can actually ease into a tub, get yourselves a hot bath. It'll help the soreness. You keep that cast dry, boy, but you could use the tub with the arm outside it. Keep it elevated, higher than your heart. It'll help with the swelling."

Jeb was amused to see his father quietly accept the orders. He didn't argue with elders, even if he might with a Healer. Either that, or he was still feeling mellow.

"You, sex up your husband real good." She pointed at DG. "It'll take the blood flow outta the arm to other parts and reduce the swelling, in the arm anyways. Plus, it's fun as hell when he can't move around too much." The Healer winked and everyone else turned beet red.

Jeb slapped a hand over his eyes. He really didn't need the mental imagery.

"I'll check on y'all tomorrow afternoon." The Healer left them alone.

"That woman is scary." Jeb gave an overly dramatic shudder.

"Don't know, she might have some pretty good ideas," DG smirked.

Like any military leader, Jeb knew when to make a hasty withdrawal. Hopefully, to a bar where there was something strong enough to wipe his brain clean for a few hours.

"I meant the bath…" DG's voice called after him filled with laughter.


	26. Home is Where the Heart Is

Title: Learning to Live 26: Home is Where the Heart Is

The village had once sported several telephones, but during the witch's reign many lines were either deliberately cut or never repaired if anything went wrong. So while there were phones, they were just useful as paperweights. She vowed communication lines were to be moved up in the list of 'needs immediate fixing.'

DG had to send a letter insisting that no vehicles were sent for them. Glitch pointed out that after her last dispatch, the Queen might well send rescue speeding along.

And considering the terrible conditions of the roads they'd seen so far… horseback would actually be the smoother, less jarring way to travel. Road repair went just above communications. The roadways were exactly why they had come out here on horseback.

They spent a week in Deepwell, under the care of the village's far from reverent Healer.

On the road once more, with medications and supplies, they were faced with more rotten luck.

Second day from the village Glitch's horse threw a shoe. The third day they made camp under a canopy of trees and barely had set up before a nasty storm hit. Wouldn't you know, they hit the rainy season! The downpour lasted most of the day, and if the Cain men didn't know exactly how to pick a camping area (at the top of a small hill, a bump in the landscape really), the tents would have been flooded.. The wet slapping of horses hooves churning through mud accompanied them for two days.

"You sure nothin' in that crate is cursed?" Cain asked DG on day five.

He chuckled at her glare.

"You're certainly in a hurry to get back to meetings and lessons and formal dinners." She pointed out.

"I've gotten soft." Cain admitted with a smile, "I'm in a hurry to get back to a nice mattress and a warm bed. Besides, at the rate Glitch and Scraps are goin…"

"I don't want to hear it." DG held up her hand.

"Neither do I, which is why I'd like some nice thick stone walls separating us all at night."

He was doing much better with proper medication.

* * *

"They're talking about us again." Glitch looked over his shoulder.

"They seem to lack entertainment. We are the story on which their focus falls." Scraps was no longer in as much pain as he had been, the tight binding around her ribs helped. But she was still uncomfortable. That was something she had long ago learned to live with.

"You'd think they'd think about politics, lessons, all the things they'll have to get back to when we arrive." Glitch seemed a bit nervous.

They'd be arriving soon. They were riding through very familiar territory now. Another few hours and this adventure would be behind them.

Over the journey and their forced delay, both of them had spent much time just talking. Scraps' memory came and went, but she apparently carried a lot of knowledge in her stuffed full noggin. She liked to fix things and understood the basic foundations of engineering. Well, most of the time. Occasionally that knowledge would be overridden by the recipe for a fabulous trout dish or how to best pick a lock.

And she fell into these periods of word association or just plain oddness. She'd gone back to braiding all the horses' manes, and then pouted when string was declared off limits to her.

Glitch admitted that he still had blank spots in his memories. His memories post brainectomy, that is. Just blank areas where he couldn't recall periods of time and had no clue what he may have said, done or been through.

"More than one of my pieces were married, you know." She announced almost randomly. "I sometimes have flashes from one in particular. The woman who swung and flew. She was often naughty."

"Well I figured someone in there was." Glitch tried to suppress a blush, which was near impossible.

"She's me now. The memories aren't mine, but the brain is. The thoughts are mine even if the voice isn't." Scraps looked at Glitch with frank, guileless eyes. "You don't seem to mind my scrambled eggs. You don't even tease very much. Don't make me feel smaller than I am."

"Well, you are pretty small." He teased just to rile her up. Definitely not about her mental deficiencies or surplus.

"I'm not. Everyone else is overly tall." She defended. Just as quickly she became serious. "Are your kisses an indication of intent or curiosity getting the cat?

Oh. "I thought you said I was yours."

Glitch knew he'd never be board around her. He also didn't want her thinking he saw her as a convenient distraction. Distraction, definitely, but little about it was convenient. Her sudden, brilliant smile made his heart clench.

"I did. I know things, and I knew that before introductions were made. I just didn't know I knew it. And I am pretty sure I'm yours as well. But will the heart war with the mind? Devastation and bloodshed inside the skin." Scraps looked down at her hands as she wove the reigns in and out of her fingers.

Glitch's hand covered one of hers, plucking it away from the leather to twine with his fingers, instead.

"I know things, too. And my intentions are to court Lady Scraps in a way that won't get me shot by her protector. Commissioner Garalli has a very big gun that makes very big holes in people."

Scraps' lips twitched upwards a bit. "Now of whole mind, you don't want a holey body."

Just then the palace came into view over the rise. The lake sparkled and glinted in the sun.

"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?" DG exclaimed behind them.

"I think I just might have." Glitch squeezed Scraps' fingers lightly.

* * *

Three hours later they were met at the main entrance of the palace by just about everyone.

DG's parents and sister embraced her, obviously relieved to have her back and in one, slightly injured, piece.

Frank Garalli thrust a hand out to Cain and clapped him on the back while they were shaking. "I see you brought my girl back in one piece."

"I think you might end up sharing her, Frank." Cain tilted his head to where Glitch stood, holding Scraps' hand.

"Oh, really?" The older, mustachioed man looked Glitch up and down. "You taken advantage of my Scraps?" Garelli looked formidable.

"No sir. I've been a gentleman." Glitch insisted, but didn't release his hold on the treasure he'd found in the desert.

"I've been taking advantage of Glitch." Scraps announced with a grin, to Glitch's embarrassment.

"Glitch and Scraps happy." Raw announced. "Help fix each other."

Off to the side, Az disentangled herself from her family and took a few steps towards Jeb.

"Captain Cain. I'm glad to see you returning in good health." She stood poised, her hands folded carefully in front of her.

"Your highness… Azkadellia… I think we need to talk. In private." Jeb offered his arm.

Azkadellia took the proffered arm. Her eyes met his for the first time. "And where will we be having this talk?"

"Perhaps a stroll around the garden will be to you're liking."

Her eyes lit up and her smile was beautiful.

The End

* * *

A/N: This is the end of this story. However, the "Learning" Verse will continue in a series of oneshots that trace Jeb/Az's relationship and slices of life for the others.

* * *


End file.
